


I Brought A Lemon To A Knife Fight

by uglywombat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU: Mob boss, Arranged Marriage, Caning, Dark, Dark Steve Rogers, Dark!Bucky, Dark!Steve, Explicit Language, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Kidnapping, Loss of Control, M/M, Miscarriage, Non-Consensual, Public Humiliation, Public humiliation as a form of punishment, Punishment, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Threesome - F/M/M, Violence, alternative universe, dark bucky barnes, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: After ten years on the run Antonia Stark is brought back to New York to fulfill her role as a pawn in her father's deadly ambitions.Forced into a marriage with the deadly Steve Rogers, she must navigate her life with Steve's lover Bucky and the world she betrayed.





	1. From Bondi With Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so scared to post this guys, but here's my little addition to the Dark!Steve & Dark!Bucky world that I am absolutely obsessed with. I really hope I've done it justice. 
> 
> This is dark so please no under 18s!
> 
> Translations for the Gaelic dialogue are provided at the bottom of the chapter. I've used Google Translate and I had to use Scottish Gaelic despite the fact Steve's heritage is Irish. I'm sorry!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE 5/5: I apologise profusely for using Scottish Gaelic. I have updated the translations to Irish/Gaeilge

The warm afternoon sun glistened on the cyan water of Bondi Beach. It was the perfect end to a warm summer’s day. No summer storm in sight; deliciously warm, the humidity low and a cool breeze caressing her skin. The Pimms’ was refreshing and exactly what the long day had called for. Antonia stretched out her weary limbs and took in her surroundings.

 

The boardwalk was abuzz with tourists. Surfers and skateboarders weaved their way in and out of the bustling crowd. Bondi attracted people trying to make a new life for themselves, people running from their past. It was a bubbling pot of life and the perfect place for Antonia to start her new life.

 

Antonia Maria Stark had been on the run since her eighteenth birthday, running from the father whose dark life had demolished her perfect, sheltered life.

 

Her father, Anthony ‘Tony’ Stark was the leader of New York’s fiercest and dirtiest mob, just as his father and his father before him had been. Her collapsed when she learnt of her father’s world and her betrothal to Steve Rogers, the youngest head of their rival gang, the Fuil Deartháir, an old Irish gang running the streets of Brooklyn. Fuil Deartháir meant blood brothers in Gaelic, although there was little blood between their members. They were violent and impulsive orphans taken in by the Rogers and Barnes families over generations.

 

Arranged marriages were part and parcel of the mob world, especially when fathers were not provided with sons. Tony Stark was never blessed with sons; his daughter was his only pawn in this complicated chess game of the underworld. As such, she was promised to the son of his rival at birth, to marry at the tender age of nineteen.

 

Tony sheltered Antonia as best he could, sending her to the best boarding schools money could buy. He needed to keep his little girl safe until her eighteenth birthday when Rogers could come to collect his prize, her.

 

His plan had worked until her sixteenth birthday when she learnt of her father’s dark world and her impending marriage to an older man. Antonia saved her healthy allowance, pawned her expensive bag and shoe collection, and bought a ticket to Europe. Years of running, working jobs at seedy bars, pawning off her valuables had eventually brought her to the sandy beaches of Bondi. Antonia hadn’t stepped foot on US land or spoken to her family in a decade.

 

Now twenty-eight, she worked as a receptionist at an in-demand accounting firm in Bondi. Her dreams of studying to be an environmental lawyer crushed, too afraid to put her name on the grid.

 

“Excuse me,” her attention was pulled away from the scenery to the waiter, holding a fresh glass of Pimms. “From the gentlemen sitting at the bar.” Antonia looked to the tall, built, blonde god sitting at the bar. His baseball cap and shades perfectly hid his face. He raised his beer to her in acknowledgement and took off his sunglasses.

 

Antonia smiled and waved her hand in thanks, her blood ran cold at the tattoo on his wrist, _Fuil Deartháir_ in perfect cursive black. _Fuck._ The panic bubbled internally as she adjusted her sunglasses on her face, subtly trying to get a better look at the man. He was handsome; his eyes electric blue, dirty blonde hair, well-kept beard, plump red lips. His Irish ancestry was strong; his skin pale, lightly painted with freckles.

 

How could she not have recognised him? _Stupid stupid Antonia._

 

She needed an escape plan. No doubt they had found her apartment, so going home wasn’t an option. She could get to the train and make her way north. she knew this wasn’t an option; they probably had the stations heavily guarded. Catching an Uber would be difficult as they could easily grab her while she waited on the street.

 

By some miracle her phone rang. It was the office.

 

“Hey Katia,” she said in a tone bubbly and bright, trying to dampen down the burning anxiety in her gut.

 

“Hey Sam, are you still at the bar…” Her alias, Samantha Taylor, still sounded foreign after all this time.

 

“What’s that, you need me to come back to the office? What kind of emergency?”

 

There was silence on the other end as she frantically grabbed her bag and made her way out of the beach-facing bar onto the boardwalk, trying to move through the throng of tourists.

 

“Are you alright? I asked if…”

 

“No, no it’s okay Katia I’m on my way now.” She hung up the phone, needing total attention on her surroundings and any potential incoming Fuil Deartháir. If she could just make her way to Campbell Parade she could get on the bus and flee from Bondi.

 

She opened the camera on her phone, pretending to fix her hair whilst looking at the crowd behind her. Sure enough, he was hot on her tail. The bus was no longer an option as he could easily grab her.

 

Antonia silently pleaded Katia to still be at the office. Her hands violently shook as she searched through her large tote bag for her office keys. She could lock herself in the office and come up with a plan.

 

“Fuck,” she cried dropping her keys on the sidewalk as she approached the last traffic lights before the office. She crouched down to pick them up, only to see his long fingers grab the keys, his dark blue eyes pinned to hers.

 

“Antonia, mo ghrá,” his voiced laced with poison, grabbing her hand and pulling her flush into him.

 

“I am not _your_ love,” she spat. Fighting him was a stupid move, but she was a fly caught in a spiders’ web, desperate and frightened.

 

Their defensive stance was drawing attention from the late afternoon crowds, so he wrapped his arms around her like a loving boyfriend. He whispered cruelly into her ear, “That contract your father signed says otherwise. You’ve been mine since the day you were born. I’m just here to collect on what I was promised. You’ve had your fun, now it’s time to come home.”

 

She knew she had to admit defeat, but she couldn’t. She’d been on the run for so long, given up everything to be free. She went to scream, cry for help, anything but he crashed his lips to hers to silence her.

 

“I dare you to scream,” his hand wove through her hair possessively. “Go on. Just know that Wanda’s life is in your hands.”

 

Antonia sobbed, clutching her hands against his shirt. “You bastard.” Wanda. Her childhood friend and closest confidant. Wanda who had been pivotal in helping her escape New York.

 

Steve Rogers, the crowned-prince of the Fuil Deartháir ushered her into a nearby black, top of the range Range Rover. The game was up. There was no escape now, wedged between the two hard bodies of New York’s most notorious young mob. Steve took her bag from her steel grip and started to examine its contents, making sure to remove the sim card from her phone and crushing it with his fingers.

 

“Stark.” Her eyes met James Buchanan Barnes’ dark blue piercing gaze, his soft red lips drawn tight, dark brown hair pulled into a low bun. “Long time no seen.” His tone was taut and savage, his eyes betraying his distaste for her.

“Your daddy will be so glad to see we’ve found you safe and sound.”

 

Antonia forced her eyes straight ahead, her heart pounding in her ears. _Do not engage; do not give him any reason to hurt her_.

 

“What, no smart ass retorts? Come on _éan beag_ , I want to hear about your little adventure.” Bucky, as he was known, was goading her. He loved to push her buttons and get a rise from her. He got off on their little spats. The nickname made her skin crawl. His fingers caressing her face made her blood run cold. “We missed you, didn’t we Stevie?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Steve said moving his body around to face her, his arm around her neck caging her in. “It got old trying to hunt you down.” When she refused to look at him he grabbed her chin and pulled her face to him, his fingers bruising her delicate skin. “You made me look like a fool. Made people question my authority. Made me look weak. Well no more.”

 

His fingers gripped her face painfully as his eyes searched her crumbling façade. Bucky’s hands continued their torturous path down her shoulder.

 

“You’re going to come home,” Steve continued, his hand grasping her neck. “You are going to beg for my forgiveness in front of the borough. You’re going to play the doting, devoted wife. You’re going to let me fuck you when and where I please. You’re going to provide me with sons.” He tauntingly wiped the tears falling down her cheeks. “And you’re going to do it with a smile on your face. You belong to me. Maybe one day you will love me.”

 

Antonia scoffed, fear strangling her resolve. “I will never love you Steven Grant Rogers.”

 

Steve laughed and removed his hands from her, Bucky mirroring his actions. “It matters not to me. You matter not to me. You are my _striapach,_ my _fraoch_. You’re a vessel to provide me sons.” His eyes were glazed with loathing and anger, causing her breath to catch. “You’re going to regret running from me.”

 

Antonia’s head spun with fear. Memories of her sixteenth birthday party pulled at her.

 

_(Flashback)_

_The grand space was bustling with waiters and partygoers. The smell of expensive perfume, canapés and alcohol was enticing and exciting._

_Antonia had missed the city, her family, and in particular her father. Her arm linked with his, he paraded her around the room gloating to his friends about her academic achievements that year. Antonia was embarrassed; she had never liked being the centre of attention, however it made her heart swell to know how proud her father was._

_As the night grew on, Antonia found an excuse to sneak away to the balcony of the penthouse her family called home. The New York skyline glistened ahead, the streets below awash with tourists and locals in search of a good night. The night air was warm, but a cool breeze eased the tension in her shoulders._

_Her reverie was broken by the sound of her father’s laughter. Turning to look at him her breath stopped. Steve Rogers. The notoriously handsome Steve Rogers was talking to her father. Everyone knew who he was. Antonia had long pined for him from afar, her teenage hormones fluttering at the sight of him. Yes, he was ten years her senior, had barely said a word to her in the two years she had known him and far too good for her, but she could not deny the strong pull he had on her._

_Antonia flustered when both her father and Steve’s gaze fell on her, and she quickly turned around to look back over the city. Her heart surged and her cheeks blushed as she heard his familiar stride make its way over the balcony._

_She looked up to see Steve stand beside her, his ever-present shadow, Bucky standing by the door watching them._

_“What’s a pretty young filly like you doing out here by yourself?” She barely contained the light giggle. “Hello Antonia. Come dance with me.” Antonia allowed him to pull her against his chest and pull her to the distant beat of the live band inside. “You are more beautiful every time I see you, my_ éan beag _,” his voice was like dark, rich chocolate. “I am a very lucky man.”_

 

_Antonia’s heart raced, her head spun. What did he mean? Surely, he could not be talking about her. She could feel Bucky’s heated gaze on them, his dark eyes piercing her. It was all too much; Steve’s warm presence against her, Bucky’s dark gaze. This was wrong. So very wrong, despite her raging naïve desire to please him. She pulled away from Steve. “I’m sorry…”_

_Steve’s hand shot out and took hold of her hands. “Ssshhh my love, it’s okay.”_

 

_Her thoughts raced a million miles an hour, her skin felt tight against the cool breeze. “I need to get back inside.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Please, no,” she begged. “My father…”_

_“Your father gifted you to me.” The world stopped. “You are mine, Antonia Maria Stark. You have been mine since the day you were born.”_

_Antonia could barely breathe. “No, no…”_

_“You are mine, contractually.” His voice was now clipped and cold, yet somehow seductively charming. “We will be engaged on your eighteenth birthday. You will spend a year being trained for your new role and then you will marry me.”_

_“He’s right princess.” She turned to see her father leaning against the door._

_“Dad, please,” she begged rushing over to him and throwing her arms around him. “This has to be some kind of joke. He’s joking right?” Tony Stark shook his head, pushing her at arms length. “This can’t be legal.”_

_“Legality means little in our world.”_

_Her blood ran cold. “So the rumours are true. Our family…”_  
  
“The Stark family is mob, yes. We have been long before our family emigrated from Sicily. I have no sons, so our only chance to carry our family legacy is for you to marry into the Fuil Deartháir. After your mother gave birth we knew you would be our only child, so a deal was made with Steve’s father.”

_“What about what I want?”_

_“It is irrelevant.” His chocolate brown eyes were cold as she weakly backed away. “Your only role in life is to marry Steve and provide him with sons.”_

_“But college?”_

_“Family is more important. Have I taught you nothing?”_

_“I won’t go through with it,” Antonia said defiantly, too aware of the gun holstered to Bucky’s hip, unable to tear her eyes away from it as his fingers caressed the magazine._

_“Unfortunately princess,” her father said brushing her fringe from her eyes, “you don’t have the choice.”_

_(End Flashback)._

The memory was cut short as the car stopped in front of the private plane. Steve all but dragged her out of the car and up into the plane, leaving Bucky to pay off the immigration agent waiting with the pilot. Pushed into the chair, Antonia could barely draw breath as Steve’s hands moved against her, buckling her into the seat.

 

His cold eyes met hers, kneeling before her, pinning her against the chair. “You do not move from this seat. You need to take a piss you ask for permission. You need to stretch your legs you ask for permission. Do I make myself clear?” She mumbled affirmatively. “Say it properly princess,” his thumb roughly grazing her cheek.

 

“Yes sir.” She watched him stand up and move to talk to Bucky who had by now entered the plane.

 

They spoke in hushed voices, their eyes and body language intense. Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek and pressed his lips to his lovers’. Antonia blushed and quickly averted her eyes. This was a side very few saw of Steve or Bucky; loving, intimate. It was the part of their life that could get them killed in this dangerous world. But Antonia knew, she had always known. He had flaunted it in her face to assert his dominance, his power.

 

Their journey over the Pacific was tense, the air frigid with tension. Antonia was too wound up to sleep; her heart beat fast with fear; her body heavy with defeat. Steve and Bucky sat further down the private plane; given her some much needed space. She dared to look over at the couple.

 

Her soon-to-be husband had changed so much. When she had first met Steve, he had looked so fresh-faced, young, carefree, eager and arrogant. He had clearly been carrying the weight of his group on his shoulders, his face now etched with lines, his eyes sunken.

 

Perhaps not all was well on the streets of Brooklyn for the Fuil Deartháir and the Starks.

 

 

_mo ghrá – my love_

_éan beag – little lamb_

_striapach – slut/whore_


	2. Brooklyn is Frozen, Inside and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonia returns to Brooklyn and learns some hard lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE 5/5: I've updated the translation in this chapter to Irish/Gaeilge. Thank you to Theyr_lying_2u for your kind message!
> 
> Oh gosh guys, I can't believe how many people are not only reading this but also leaving kudos and bookmarking. Thank you so so much. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
> 
> We're starting off slow but soon we are going to dulldoze into the dark, I promise!

The brownstone was formidable. Dark, tall, strong. There should have been a joke about coffee or a character in lame romance novel in there somewhere, but Antonia knew that behind those doors was a life that she could not be proud of. 

 

Snow fell gently from the ashen sky, the wind whipping at her. She watched Steve unlock the door from the bottom of the stairs, Bucky at her side, his hand possessively holding her arm. She could feel eyes watching from neighbouring townhouses. Yes, everyone knew who Steve and Bucky were, and it would not be long until they realised who she was. 

 

Bucky pulled her up the stairs and all but pushed her into the freezing brownstone. The smell of stale dust was overwhelming and her exhaustion only increased with the frigid air.

 

“The house hasn’t been open since my uncle moved out,” Steve explained as they made their way into the frigidly cold kitchen. “We were supposed to move in after the wedding. Thanks to your little stunt it’s been closed up all this time.”

 

“I wouldn’t exactly call ten years a little stunt,” she muttered bitterly, running her pointer finger along the dusty stovetop, her exhausting biting at her self-control. 

 

“I expect you to clean the house and prepare the bedrooms for tonight. Your father is expecting us for dinner tonight where we will sign the marriage license,” he continued, ignoring her snide comment. “Two beds will be delivered this afternoon and they will be set up. You will take the smaller bedroom; Bucky and I will take the larger master suite. I suggest you go shower, I have some things to attend to.”

 

Antonia bit back the temptation to make a snide comment, her blood boiling at the thought of being a glorified maid. “I will need to get cleaning supplies.”

 

“I’m sure there are supplies,” Steve said pulling out his phone and turned his back to make his way out of the room.

 

“And if there isn’t? They’re probably twenty years out of date.”

 

Steve stopped and turned to look at her, his eyes blazing. “Bucky will take you to the store once you are showered. This afternoon we will have a chat about your attitude and discuss my rules.”

 

Antonia watched him storm out of the room, his shoulders tense. She called it his murder walk.

 

After a long hot shower, she found some clean clothes set on the bed for her; Bucky must have snuck in and left them for her. The lingerie was delicate lace and left little to the imagination. She pulled on the black leggings, thick socks and thick grey wool jumper. The wool was soft and comforting against the skin she had scrubbed raw in a weak attempt to atone. She knew Steve’s punishment would be brutal; he was at best a monster when betrayed.

 

Bucky kept his arm firmly wrapped around her shoulders as they made their way through the icy streets to the nearby grocery store; his grip a reminder that she was now back on Rogers and Barnes territory. 

 

Brooklyn had not changed since she was last here, except the housing market prices. Despite this change, it was very clear that the presence of the Fuil Bráthair still had its chokehold on the locals. The smell of fresh snow, car fumes and the different aromas of ethnic foods was somewhat comforting; it reminded her of happier times in her childhood, walking the streets of Brooklyn when she was home from school.

 

Despite growing up with Central Park at her door, Brooklyn was where Antonia had always felt more at home. It was less pretentious than the world her father thrived for in Manhattan. Its diverse community of Jews, Chinese, Caribbeans, Russians, Italians and Muslims was exciting. Of course its formidable Irish Americans ruled the streets in the manifestation of its Fuil Bráthair. 

 

In the naivety of her carefully orchestrated youth, her father its conductor, Antonia was blind to the rulings of the boroughs. Her father sheltered her from the Borough’s and their ongoing politics. Fuil Bráthair of Brooklyn, the Starks of Manhattan, The Wakanda Tribe of The Bronx, May Parker and her hand of spiders in Queens, and the chaotic Staten Island run by Scott Lang. All infamous and dangerous.

 

Her father ensured her attention was solely on studying, a world away from the wars brewing between the boroughs and their occupants. Of course she had heard rumours, but her undying devotion to her perfect father drowned out any whispers. 

 

As they passed the little Jewish bakery that she fondly remembered sneaking to with Wanda on Saturday mornings, she pulled her coat tightly against her frame, to block out the icy winter air. “Where is Wanda?” she asked Bucky timidly, her tone careful as not to anger him further. She knew that anything she said or did would be reported back to Steve immediately and would only add to her inevitable punishment.

 

“Wanda is being watched,” was all Bucky would say as he pulled her into the upmarket grocery store. “Just get what you think we need for a few days, we can come back later in the week. You’ve got a lot to get done.”

 

Little was said as they made their way around the store, grabbing some food essentials and toiletries. 

 

The remainder of the day was exhausting. Antonia made good headway dusting the bedrooms and putting on brand new sheets Bucky had flung at her once they got home. The bathrooms sparkled and the kitchen was immaculate by the time Steve strolled into Antonia’s bedroom only to find her lightly sleeping. 

 

His eyes roamed over her petite body, resting on her delicately freckled face. She was still as beautiful as the last day he had seen her, the morning after he had taken her virginity on her eighteenth birthday. She had lost some considerable weight whilst on the run, her eyes dark from exhaustion. 

 

Steve sat on the bed beside her, gently running his hands over her soft skin. He had never wanted to take a young bride, not when his heart had always belonged to Bucky. But it was his duty to marry into the Stark family, so he conceited when his father had told him at the age of fifteen. Yes he would marry the girl, but his heart would always belong to Bucky. 

 

He had always liked Antonia. She was a sweet, kind and caring young woman, but deeply naïve to the world she was born into. That, along with her childish crush, had excited Steve and flamed his ego. And of course with this alliance came great power; New York would one day be his to rule. Steve and Bucky. Together. 

 

She stirred under his touch, her eyes wide as she saw him over her, desperate to put some distance between them. Her reaction pricked at his ego like a fine needle. “Come downstairs,” he said, his voice tinged with venom and stalked out of the room. 

 

Antonia worked up the courage to make her way downstairs, all too aware of his temper and malice. She slowly entered what had once been the sitting room, which now lay bare. Steve and Bucky stood by the stone cold antique fireplace. She stilled in the doorway, their conversation ceasing at the sound of the wooden floor squeaking against her feet, their eyes falling to her. 

 

Without a word Steve moved towards her. She couldn’t breathe as he caged her against the wall, his intense gaze penetrating her. His hand rested against the wall, millimetres from her face. Antonia knew he was trying to assert his dominance over her, remind her that he was in charge and she should keep her mouth shut. 

 

“Now,” he said moving back, smirking as she gasped for air, “You need to buy some clothes; with limited time I was only able to get you the bare essentials for a week.” His eyes never left hers. “You will not leave this house on your own until I believe that I can trust you, and that will take some time.” His arrogance was at an all time high as he strutted back to Bucky, his hand caressing his lovers’ cheek, their smirks a silent conversation. He looked back at her, leaning against the fireplace. He continued, “An architect friend of mine will be coming by the house to plan the renovations in two days. I expect you to come up with a design for the bathrooms and kitchen.”

 

“But that’s not enough time, I don’t…”

 

“Interrupt me again and I will put you over my knee and spank you raw,” he threatened, his eyes darkening as she bit her lip. “I expect a large dining table so that we can host the borough dinner here once a month on a Sunday after our family meeting, which of course you will not attend.” Antonia had expected this; it was what her mother had been required to do when she was alive. That role had fallen to her stepmother Pepper when she married her father.

 

He continued, “You will also be required to attend mass with us each week. Perhaps you will find some peace in your life there, discover God’s Grace.” She wanted to scoff. He was no more religious than she, a staunch atheist, but it was all for show. 

 

“This attitude of yours will stop. From tonight I will be your husband and you are to obey every command Bucky or I give you. If you so much as put a hair out place I will have Wanda brought over here and I will kill her in front of you. And I promise it will be slowly and painfully.”

 

Her eyes prickled with tears, and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “Am I allowed to see her?” Her voice was timid and broken, just the way he liked it.

 

“In time, when you’ve proven to me that you can be trusted.” 

 

Beside him, Bucky smirked watching her slowly concede to her fate. He loved watching Steve go all alpha and Dom.

 

“Come here.” Steve was asserting his dominance again; she had no choice but to comply. As she stood before him, his fingers threaded through her hair. “On your bed you will find a dress for tonight. We will leave at 8pm for dinner. I expect you to look like the wife of a king, because who am I?”

 

Antonia had to stop herself from scoffing and rolling her eyes. She had to think of Wanda, because she deserved better than to die because of her. “You are the King of Brooklyn.”

 

He laughed and cupped his hands on her face, taking her off guard. “No leanbh, I’m the fucking King of New York.” She froze as her skin crawled with fear, his fingers running through her hair. “You are still so beautiful. So pure. We’re lucky, Bucky, to have this little lamb to call our own.”

 

“Your little lamb has to learn some manners, mo ghaol,” Bucky chimed in darkly, his eyes sparkling with lust.

 

“Yes she does.” Steve’s eyes were blown and dark. “You made a fool of me by running Antonia. Tonight I am gifting you the opportunity to prove your loyalty to me, to seek forgiveness for your faux pas. You will marry me, regardless of your feelings towards me, regardless of my relationship with Bucky. How I treat you from here on in will totally depend on your very public apology tonight. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Antonia bit her tongue, despite the raging desire to punch him in the face, looked him square in the eyes and said, “Yes sir.”

 

His smile, sickly sweet and forced, never met his eyes. “Good. I suggest you rest.”

 

She couldn’t leave the room fast enough, her bedroom door slamming behind her as she broke down. 

 

Later that evening, she stood in front of the mirror examining the wedding dress Steve had chosen. It was beautiful, and was probably something she would have picked herself but it felt tainted and ugly. 

The V-neck sequined short-sleeved top glittered gently in the light, the taupe blush maxi tulle skirt draped softly to the floor. She’d spent some time putting her hair up into Dutch braids, to elongate her neck. Hell, if she was being forced to marry someone she may as well go down looking good.

 

Tonight’s wedding would not be a traditional white dress and church wedding. Modern day mob weddings in New York involved a contract; an officiant closely linked to the family, and of course one hell of a party. Emotions were for the weak.

 

Antonia worried over the pins in her hair as she thought about seeing her father. The last time she had seen him was the night he presented her to Steve as a consolation prize, her virginity on a platter. He had been so cold and callous handing her over to her fiancé like a heavy cheque. 

 

“You look beautiful.” She spun to see Steve leaning against the doorframe, his dark blue tuxedo with black lapels perfectly fit to his body. He looked like old-school Hollywood royalty. 

 

“Thank you,” she said shyly and made her way over to him obediently. Tonight was not the night to bite the hand that fed her so to speak. She had to bide her time and play his little game until she could come up with a plan to get out of New York with Wanda. 

 

He escorted her down to the waiting limo where Bucky already sat waiting. He looked dashing in his dark green velvet suit. 

 

Antonia’s heart sank when they finally pulled up in front of the St. Regis. Something felt wrong, very wrong. This was too public, too opulent. Mob weddings were usually held in secret, in small dining rooms in the dark corners of the boroughs. They were going to make an example of her tonight. It would serve as a warning to any one thinking of double-crossing the boroughs.

 

Steve helped her out of the limo, his arm linked with hers as they made their way into the grand old hotel. 

 

Bucky grasped Steve’s hand as they stood before the large, closed double doors. He pulled his long-time love into a searing kiss, resting his forehead against his, their eyes locked in an intense gaze.

 

Despite their criminal life and lust for the underworld, Antonia could not help but feel sorrow for the childhood sweethearts. They should be getting married, not she and Steve. They truly loved and adored each other and deserved happiness. Antonia stepped back; she didn’t want to pry on their private moment. Her hands wrung tightly as she took in the beautiful surroundings. On the other side of the door sat New York’s most powerful and dangerous men and women. 

 

Steve caressed the tears from Bucky’s cheek whispering, “Beidh grá agam duit go brách.” With one final kiss, Steve pulled away from Bucky and clasped Antonia’s forearm. “Do not make a fool of me tonight,” he warned her before pulling into the lavishly decorated party.

 

She could feel eyes trailing their path into the centre of the room, her father’s penetrating gaze from the head table where each borough head sat with their partners. She almost collided into Steve when he abruptly before the head table.

 

Her eyes locked with her fathers’ cold, hard glare, and lips smirking against his whiskey glass.

 

leanbh – baby  
mo ghaol – my ghrá  
Beidh grá agam duit go brách – I love you, forever


	3. Wedding of the Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a traditional mob wedding full of traditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, dub-con smut
> 
> Thank you so so much for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks. I'm absolutely blown away!

Tony Stark was a formidable leader; lithe, sarcastic, dangerous. His closest allies saw him as a fierce but fair leader, whilst his enemies cowered with fear. His life was ruled by tradition and loyalty. 

 

He himself was the product of an arranged marriage, but thanks to his gender had been granted the freedom to marry whom ever he pleased. His childhood sweetheart Maria had gifted him the most beautiful daughter. Birthing complications destroyed any hopes for a son. Tensions were brewing with the Guardians of Jersey, so with a heavy heart he accepted the offer to arrange a marriage between the Starks and the Fuil Deartháir, creating a strong alliance between boroughs. 

 

And now before him stood his beautiful, naïve daughter who had upended and disturbed the very foundations of the boroughs he had worked tirelessly to mould to his liking. He had meticulously planned out her life, given her the best education, protected her from the dangers that were brewing, and promised her to a good man from a good family. And yet, she had the audacity to sell the beautiful shoes and bags he had personally picked out for her and turn her back on her family and legacy. 

 

With the grace and of a lethal jaguar, Tony stood up and raised his glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for attending the wedding of my daughter Antonia Maria Stark to Steven Grant Rogers of the Fuil Deartháir. Finally.” The crowd chuckled. He smirked watching his daughter glow red with embarrassment. “We are proud boroughs of tradition and loyalty. We pride ourselves on the rules we live by. Those rules were broken, the tradition spat on and loyalty torn apart by the young woman you see before you.”

 

Antonia could feel Steve swell with excitement and anticipation. All eyes were on her, and she could feel her head swim under the pressure. It was all so overwhelming; she could barely hear her father. Steve nudged her and she drew her attention back to her father who was looking at her expecting a response to whatever he had said. 

 

Nothing she could say would ever appease their anger; she would pay for this for the rest of her life. She chooses her words carefully; Wanda’s safety was her main priority, not her own pride. She turns to Steve and kneels, looking up at him. “I’m sorry,” her voice shakes seeing the outline of his gun in his jacket pocket, “I’m sorry for running away and trying to hide from my responsibilities. I belong to you and I have broken your trust. I beg you to forgive me and allow me to be your wife and bear your sons.”

 

His Cheshire cat smile sent chills up her spine. He offered her his hand, the gesture made her stomach turn. She placed a kiss on his Fuil Deartháir ring, a sign of his lifelong dedication to the borough. 

 

The wind left her as his open palm connected with her cheek with enough force to push her to the ground. Tears bristled and she forced back a sob as she righted herself, before being dragged to her fathers’ table. 

 

Antonia focused on a glass on the table as Steve strips her of her dress and takes the whip from Bucky. She hears the whip before she feels it against the skin on her back. The pain is crippling, but she refuses to cry out. The sound of the whip cracking through the air echoes through the large room before the sound of the crack on her back.

 

Steve hits her ten times because she cries out, the pain all too much, Steve smiling venomously as he pulls her underwear down and lowers the whip to the exposed skin on her arse. She won’t cry though, the humiliation rips through her. 

 

“Happy Rogers?” her father asked clearly amused by the scene before him, the whisky all but gone from his glass.

 

“For now,” Steve responded, his voice laced with venom. “Come,” he said to Antonio grabbing her hand and helped her back into her dress. 

 

The officiant, a man Antonia did not recognise, produced the marriage licence at the head table. Steve signed first before handing the pen to his younger bride. Her hand shook as she signed her life away, the pen dropping to the floor as she stepped back. 

 

Steve pulled her flush against his body, the crowd cheering as he pressed his lips to hers. It was done. They were married. The party resumed and Steve stalked his way over to Bucky, dragging him out onto the balcony, Antonia cemented to the ground.

 

Gentle hands on her shoulders brought her attention from the balcony. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Pepper whispered pulling her into a warm embrace. “I tried to…”

 

“It’s okay,” Antonia reassured her, “I know. It was inevitable though. I should never have tried to escape.” She had always loved her stepmother; she was kind and graceful, and deserved better than Tony Stark.

 

As the night dragged on Antonia slumped against the bar, her heels pinching her feet and her back aching. The glass of champagne in her hand was starting to warm against her hand as she surveyed the room. She was an outsider to these people, being punished for escaping. She would forever be tarnished and untrustworthy.

 

“Antonia.” Her father sidled up next to her, leaning against the bar. “It’s been a day. Miss me?” Tony was the king of dry sarcasm.

 

She bit back a retort, reminding herself of Wanda’s safety. “I did,” although it wasn’t a complete lie. Her mind battled constantly over the man who had brought her up and the man who had shattered her world like glass on her sixteenth birthday. “I was so scared of not being worthy of Steve and giving up everything for him and that blinded me to the loyalty I should have had for you.”

 

Tony chuckled and sipped his whiskey. “Nice speech, princess. Nice dress by the way. It’s a shame we didn’t get to see you in white for your wedding, but only virgins are allowed that privilege.”

 

She watched him disappear into the crowd. Their relationship was beyond repair, she knew that deep down. She had to fight to win Steve’s trust, to gain favour so she could see Wanda. Her best friend deserved that much after everything she had sacrificed for Antonia.

 

In search of fresh air, she made her way onto the deserted balcony. She clung onto the railing, begging her body not to give in the sobs that were threatening to implode. The freezing winter air numbed her bare skin, the welts on her back now a dull ache, but she didn’t care. 

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Startled, she spun around to see Steve stalking towards her, her coat in his hands. “If you think I’m going to let you die of hypothermia on our wedding night you have another thing coming.” He forced the coat over her petite frame and pressed her against his chest. “It’s getting late, we should be getting home. There’s still one more tradition to see to.”

 

Antonia was silent as Steve bid goodnight to their guests, collecting Bucky from the bar and making their way to the waiting limo. The ride back to the brownstone was tense, Steve’s hand clasping Bucky’s. Steve instructed her to go upstairs and wait for him as they entered the foyer of their home. 

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Bucky told him, arms wrapped protectively around Steve’s neck. “We can figure out another way to have sons. There’s IVF or...”

 

Steve smiled sadly and pressed his lips to Bucky’s forehead. “I know my love but this is the way things are done. This was in place before you and I were together.” He sighed as they clung to each other. “I will make this right for us, I promise. Once we have sons she will not be our concern. Antonia is nothing more than a means to an end, and we can have fun on the way.”

 

Antonia’s breath stilled as she listened from the top of the landing. He was going to kill her once she had fulfilled her role of giving birth. She should have known. It was imperative that she gets out of New York with Wanda. Numbly, she made her way into the bedroom, stripping off her dress and throwing it by the bed. She kicked off her ridiculous and uncomfortable silver Louboutin’s, a hand grasping her forearm before she could retreat into the bathroom. 

 

Steve frantically kissed at her neck, his hands grasping at her breasts as he pushed her against the wall, pulling her body to face him. His eyes roamed her body hungrily, his eyes dark with lust. “You thought you could escape your fate.” His voice was dark like rich molasses, his calloused hands rough against her face. “But I always get what I want.”

“You don’t want me,” Antonia’s voice faint, “you love Bucky.” 

 

“I’ve wanted since that night in the Hamptons, on your eighteenth birthday.”

 

“You had me.”

 

“It wasn’t enough, princess,” his thumb caressed her cheek. “I can still hear the rip of your hymen, feel your walls clenching against my cock as I made you come over and over again.”

 

Antonia remembered that night all too well. How she’d given in to the inevitable and succumbed to his touch. He’d been so loving and gentle, taking his time to explore her body. He was a contradiction to the man who all but threw her from his bed the next morning; the final nail in the coffin for her escape.

 

Her skin burned under his hot gaze and wandering hands. “You’ve thought about that night too, haven’t you mo uan beag?” he teased, his lips exploring her neck and clavicle. “Have you thought of me when you lie with other men?” She blushed as he watched her closely, waiting for a response. “Oh you have.”

 

Antonia wanted to fight back, tell him that it was hard to burn out the memory of being coerced into his bed that night. How her father had spent a year grooming her to take on the role of Steve’s wife. How much she had enjoyed the feel of his body over hers, his lips on her skin.

 

She bit back tears as his lips caressed her jaw line, his fingers teasing the lace of her bra, one hand firmly holding her hip. Steeling herself, she pressed her lips to his, taking him by surprise. 

 

He pushed her against the wall, his hand wrapped around her throat. “Did you really think I was going to make this easy for you, mo milis?” his threat rang ominously through the dark room. “No, I’m not quite done exacting my punishment.” His face was millimetres from her, his hot breath fuelled with the scent of scotch. “You need to be taught who exactly is in charge here. Your body is now mine.”

 

Antonia gasped, clutching onto his forearm as his finger found her taut clitoris. “That’s right petal, let me hear those sweet noises you make,” his voice was dark like molasses. “I sometimes watch the video we made that night when I’m by myself. I like to be reminded of how sweet your little gasps and whimpers are.” 

 

His finger played her clitoris like a slow melody, teasing her. She moaned clutching onto him tighter, wanting to beg him to let her come. End his game.

 

He watched her closely as she battled with her emotions. He made her feel so good all the while she knew it was so wrong. Her face contorted as he increased speed and pressure against her clit, her heady woozy with her inner-battle. 

 

Expletives spewed from her mouth as she fell over the precipice; her orgasm sent electric sparks through her whole body. Steve chuckled darkly, pressing his body against hers, effectively pinning her against the wall. Antonia struggled to breath as she plummeted from her high, his weight pressing into her. 

 

Wrapping her legs around his waist, he carried her to the bed before unceremoniously dropping her onto the soft mattress. She watched defenceless as he ripped off her panties and bra. His eyes roamed over her naked petite form as he removed his clothing with a little more care than her garments. It was a clear message that she was beneath Steve’s status in this ‘relationship’. 

 

Once undressed, he crawled over the bed, caging her in beneath him. Gently, he placed his hand on her cheek and softly placed his lips against hers. She melted into his soft touch as his other hand travelled down to her soaked pussy. Smirking at her arousal, he kissed her more passionately, pressing his finger into her. She moaned, the pressure against her walls was everything she wanted and more, soon forgetting that she had been forced to marry this man. 

 

Deep down she knew that this was all a big mind-fuck and soon Steve would just take what he wanted. And for the sake of Wanda’s safety she knew would have to let him have his way. 

 

Antonia wantonly bucked against his hand, gripping his biceps as he moved to kiss her sensitive neck. “Fuck Steve,” she moaned breathlessly, his finger finding her g-spot. 

 

“I know mo milis,” he groaned before latching onto her hard nipple, “I can make you feel so good. Just let me.” Before she could reply he pulled her legs apart and entered her in one swift motion. He could have come right there and then. She was impossibly tight and so very wet. It was heaven; just like the first time he and Bucky had been together.

 

At first he took his time, hooking her leg around his hip, revelling in the feeling of her walls pulsing around his cock. His lips never left hers, exploring her mouth. His hands pinned her hands to the bed beside her head.

 

“Tha thu nèamh,” he rasped against her neck, thrusting his hips faster and harder. “Just think you could have had me all along. I would have treated you like a princess. Bucky and I could have taken care of you all this time. But you had to leave,” his dark, menacing eyes locked with hers. “We could have been something special.” His thrusts bruised her, causing her to move back against the bed, his hands locking onto the hips tightly. “Good girls don’t run away from their responsibilities. Bad girls get punished.” His fingers dug into her soft skin causing her to cry out, his body hitting her clitoris with each thrust.

 

“I’m sorry,” Antonia cried, grasping the sheets as his thrusts punished her. “I was scared.”

 

“You should be scared,” he snarled, snaking a hand around her neck. “Do you know how many times Bucky told me to give up looking for you? How many times he refused to come to our bed because I could not stop? Just you wait until he gets his hands on you…”

 

“No please!” she begged trying to pull away, but his grip was too hard. She clasped at the hand around her neck, tears rolling down her face. His pace was furious and hit her clit in the most spectacular way driving her into another mind numbing orgasm. 

 

Antonia gasped for air as he removed his hand and threw her body around, pushing her face first into the mattress. He thrust back into her, again locking his hands onto her hips. He would enjoy seeing his marks on her in the morning. She had always bruised so easily. 

 

He came with a guttural groan, pinning her to the bed, his weight knocking the breath out of her. Sated and exhausted, he rolled over, his sculpted body glistening in the light. 

 

Antonia shifted onto her back and caught her breath. Her body ached in the most delicious way, but her mind whirled with confusion. I shouldn’t enjoy this. 

 

Steve watched her silently, her chest rising and falling as she slowed her breathing, her mind clearing running a million miles an hour. She was so responsive to his touch it was almost painful. He reached over and allowed his fingers to roam over her body, causing her to tense immediately. 

 

He chuckled darkly before pulling her into a heated kiss. “You are better than I remembered.”

 

Despite her exhaustion and jetlag, Antonia struggled to sleep as Steve possessively pinned her to his side as he slept gently. She took the opportunity to study his soft face, his long eyelashes grazing his face, a soft spattering of freckles. He looked so peaceful and gentle as he slept, his chest rising and falling slowly. This was the carefree Steve she remembered before that night of her birthday when she learned of the contract. 

 

It was inevitable that tomorrow he would be Dark Steve, the king of Brooklyn, no New York. Antonia succumbed to her exhaustion, resting her head against his chest and fell asleep. 

 

Antonia awoke sore and tense, the bed cold and empty where Steve had slept. Stretching her aching limbs, she looked around what would now be her bedroom. It lacked personality, but the features were charming. 

 

A warm shower eased the tension in her body, however the bruises littered on her hips were tender. Dressed in jeans and a thick jumper, she made her way to the kitchen to find Bucky leaning against the kitchen island looking at his phone, his trusty gun on the bench beside him.

 

“Good morning,” he said dryly, not looking up from his phone. “Nice of you to join us.”

 

Antonia knew she had to play nice with Bucky; he was obviously threatened by her presence in what should be his and Steve’s home. “Good morning, Bucky. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was so late. It must be the jetlag.”

 

He scoffed pushing away from the bench and tossed her an apple. “Eat up, we need to leave,” and stormed from the room, placing his gun in his pocket. Leaving the apple on the bench she made her way after Bucky to the front door. “Not hungry? I’m surprised you didn’t work up an appetite last night,” he said icily pushing a coat over her body.

 

Placing a hand gently on his arm she looked at him pleadingly, “It should have been you he married, not me. It’s not fair and I understand wholeheartedly why you detest me.”

 

Bucky scoffed pulling away from her touch. “Let’s go.”

 

Mo éan beag– my little bird  
Mo milis – my sweet  
Tha thu nèamh – you are heaven


	4. Three's Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonia comes to terms with her new normal and tries to mend bridges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments, kudos and bookmarks. I love to read the comments - good and bad! 
> 
> Warning: smut smut smut f/m and m/m.

Steve was struck by the mouthwatering aroma of bolognaise as he entered the brownstone. There was inviting and comforting warmth that had been void when they had first come into the house the day before. He was pleasantly surprised to see the fire lit in the living room, a makeshift picnic blanket on the floor.

 

 

He made his way into the kitchen to find a few bags from H&M full to the brim with clothes, and a few discreet bags from La Perla and Agent Provocateur. On the old kitchen bench sat paint, tile, marble and wood samples alongside her rough plans for the kitchen and bathrooms. Bucky was working on the laptop whilst Antonia stirred the saucepan, her fresh pasta drying on the rack beside her.

 

 

This is what Steve had imagined his life would be like, coming home to Bucky and Antonia after a long days’ work. Well, it hadn’t been once upon a time. She’d become a factor in his life when he learnt of their arranged marriage. His and Bucky’s life that is.

 

 

“You’ve been busy,” he said warmly, moving over to greet Bucky, the pair embracing. Antonia smiled sadly, all too aware that she was an intruder in their relationship. She jumped slightly as she felt Steve’s strong hands rest on her shoulders, his face next to hers, as he smelt the aromas. “That smells delicious. Is that your Nona’s recipe?” She nodded, the all too familiar feeling of Bucky’s eyes on her and Steve.

 

 

They ate dinner together on the picnic blanket in front of the fireplace, soaking in the warmth.

 

 

“This is just as good as your Nona used to make it,” Steve said, greedily mopping up what little sauce he had left with his garlic bread. Bucky eagerly agreed patting his full stomach, his second helping already gone. “The architect and contractor will be coming over tomorrow to discuss renovations on the house,” he announced placing his plate beside him. “I want to knock the wall down between the kitchen and dining room so we can make the kitchen bigger. The bathrooms will all need to be gutted as well and the house needs better insulation.”

 

 

“It’s going to be a lot of work,” Bucky groaned. “Can’t we just buy a bigger townhouse?”

 

 

“This house has been in the family since the early 1900’s Buck, we can’t just leave. We can make this a home, for all of us. We can stay in the loft while the construction is happening.”

 

 

Antonia shuddered, knowing that their little family would in no doubt not include her once she had provided them sons. “Let me take these plates,” she said collecting the empty dishes and took them into the kitchen.

 

 

As she took her time washing and drying the dishes, she could hear the couple plan their renovations. Including turning the attic into the children’s playroom. The domesticity of the evening was charming and unnerving. She was on edge waiting for the other shoe to fall.

 

 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bucky’s laptop sitting open. The temptation to contact Wanda was simmering as she distracted herself by scrubbing the old stovetop. Her eyes flickered over to the device periodically, the desire rising.

 

 

“You’ve been a good girl today.” Steve’s dark voice broke the silence, startling her and causing her to drop the spray bottle. She could hear him approach before placing his wine glass on the counter beside her, his hands sat on her hips, his soft lips pressing against her neck. “Still so skittish, _mo uan beag_.”

 

 

“You startled me,” she said, hoping he hadn’t seen her glancing over at the laptop. The silence was deafening as she finished up and put away the remainder of the dishes, Steve’s eyes on her every move. With nothing else to distract her attention she turned to face him, his long, strong form leant against the kitchen bench, his ankles crossed. Best play the doting wife Antonia. “How was your day?”

 

 

 “Long. I like the designs for the kitchen and bathroom. You’ve done a good job.” Steve smirked as she blushed, and looked away.

 

 

Antonia warmed at his praise and smile, before internally berating herself for giving in to him so easily. _Just think of Wanda._ His eyes locked with hers as he approached her, pinning her against the kitchen bench, his fingers immediately examining the bruises he had caused the night before.

 

 

His lips met hers, his hand gripping at her neck. “Thank you for behaving today,” he said after breaking away, his fingers moving to undo the buttons on her jeans. “Good girls get rewarded.”

 

 

“Please Steve, Bucky is in the…”

 

 

He silenced her, removing his hand from her neck and placing a finger against her lips. “Bucky likes to listen.” Before she could argue her jeans were pulled down and thrown across the room, his fingers making their way into her lace panties, teasing her folds.

 

 

Antonia gripped onto the counter as he gently coaxed his finger into her warm pussy, his lips teasing her collarbone. Embarrassment flooded her body; her body betraying her as lust and desire won over her hatred for him.

 

 

Faint sweet moans and gasps from the kitchen attracted Bucky’s attention, pulling him away from the warmth of the fire. A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned his body against the doorframe, his eyes fixated on the way the strong muscles of his lover’s arms juxtaposed against the naked soft petite curves pinned to the counter.

 

 

Of course Bucky Barnes was jealous of the attention the little bird was receiving. But Bucky had been in this game far too long to argue the politics of their situation, of the boroughs. He had to accept the wife into their home and bed knowing that Steve would always have his heart.

 

 

He’d be stupid not to notice the obsession Steve had long had for the little thing and he had had plenty of time to come to terms with their incoming third wheel. Bucky had always liked Antonia, although it was hard for him to admit. She was very smart and pretty; his inner bi screamed out to take her.

 

 

But the envy still gnawed away at him though. Steve should have been his and his alone.

 

 

Steve’s lips dominated hers, as he slowly teased his fingers in and out of her, her fingers clenched into his strong back, the muscles tense and visible in the dark navy Henley, that practically moulded to his body. Bucky bit his lip, as he watched Steve’s lips descend to her exposed nipple and nip at her little bud.

 

 

She looked beautiful as she crashed headfirst into her orgasm, her body quaking through the free-fall, Steve pinning her harder against the bench. Panic replaced lust as her eyes met Bucky’s, her hands fighting to push Steve away, before rushing to cover herself.

 

 

Antonia tried to apologise only to be silenced by Steve’s lips. “He likes to watch too,” he chuckled darkly. His eyes met Bucky’s with a smirk as they approached each other. Bucky took his fingers and sucked her juices clean, Steve biting his lip in response.

 

 

Their lips battled as Bucky pulled him to the blanket in the living room. They fight to rid each other of their clothes, as Antonia pulled her jeans and jumper back on. She tries to make her way to the stairs without them noticing, but before she can place her foot onto the first step Steve is commanding her into the room.

 

 

Arousal blooms as she watches the lovers on the blanket, their well-defined muscles glisten against the flickering light of the fire. Bucky curses wildly as Steve enters him, their hands entwined.

 

 

Steve gently kisses Bucky’s lips and mumbles encouragingly as he moves in him, his lovers’ cock in his hand, slowly teasing him. They moved in sync, whispering sweet words to each other, their hands exploring.

 

 

It was all too much, watching two men making love on the floor of their living room, a cruel reminder that she would never be on the receiving of that kind of love, ever.

 

 

Hot tears streamed down her face as she fled the room, seeking comfort under a scalding shower, her skin turning red as the hot water pelted her skin. She knew Steve was testing her and running away had been weak on her part. It was an invitation for Steve to punish her.

 

 

Antonia made a promise to herself as she lay in bed to lock her feelings away in a box; let Steve play his little mind games. She couldn’t allow herself to be swept up in her emotions; permit herself to be caught up in Steve’s manipulation. She would have to wear a mask and protect herself from his power struggle to control her. She could play the part of doting wife, caretaker and staff. Slowly gain his trust.

 

 

It would take time before he would allow her access to Wanda. It would take longer before he would remove Bucky as her shadow, if ever. She couldn’t trust Steve to every have faith in her feigned loyalty.

 

 

She would be damned if she did not go down without a fight though. So, she imagined placing her heart and fears into a box and locking it. It was something her mother had taught her as a young child when she was scared or lonely at boarding school. Perhaps it was childish, but she found comfort in the simple act.

 

 

The small clock beside her read 3 a.m. Knowing sleep would evade her tonight, she made her way into the kitchen. She found some peace in kneading the bread dough, working the strands of gluten just like her Nona had taught her. She poured her tension, her stress, her fears into warming and stretching out the dough.

 

 

She eyed the laptop, sipping her cup of tea, as she waited for the dough to rise in the old fashioned proofing drawer.

 

 

“A little early for baking, isn’t it?” A dark voice startled her from the hallway, Bucky slowly making his way into the kitchen, his eyes looking to the laptop.

 

 

Antonia shrugged and sipped her tea. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought fresh bread for breakfast would be nice.”

 

 

Bucky scoffed before going to the fridge and draining the remainder of the milk from the bottle. “You disappeared quickly last night.” She blushed and distracted herself by pulling out the perfectly risen dough. He watched her drop the elastic dough onto the floured top and kneads it for a second time. “Didn’t enjoy the show?” He asked coldly, leaning his back against the fridge.

 

 

Antonia’s mind mulled as she placed the dough back into the pan and back into the proof drawer. She turned to face him, trying to calm her nerves. “I didn’t feel like it was my place to watch you both.”

 

 

“Steve wanted you to watch.”

 

 

“But what about you Bucky?” Her question caught him by surprise. “You don’t like me, and I can’t fault you for that. I’m the woman who’s been thrust into your relationship and you weren’t given the chance to have a say in it, and I’m sorry. What you two have is sacred and special and I am intruding on that.“

 

 

Bucky studied her face intensely. “Steve always gets what he wants,” his eyes roamed down her chest, slightly exposed thanks to the deep V-neck jumper and making their way down her bare legs. “And he’s wanted you for a long time. We both have our roles to play here, I suggest you just learn to accept it.”

 

 

“I’d like us to be friends, Bucky,” she said quietly, clutching her hands around her cup. He scoffed and she stiffened. “Not today, but someday. For Steve’s sake.”

 

 

It resonated with Bucky and he pondered her situation. They were both victims in this deal. “We all just need time to get used to our new normal.”

 

 

They stood in comfortable silence as she waited for the dough to rise for the final time, Bucky flipping through the designs she had drawn up. With the bread finally in the oven to bake, Antonia made a pot of coffee whilst Bucky lit the fire in the sitting room. It was close to five a.m. and Steve would be up soon to go for his morning run.

 

 

She sat beside Bucky on the rug, offering him a fresh cup of black coffee. “I think you should be the one to decorate this house, Bucky. It’s more your house than mine.”

 

 

“We will do it together. Can’t let you have total control of how my house looks.” His eyes firmly set on the flickering fireplace.

 

 

Steve listened from the top of the stairs, his smile warm. He thought back to the night he fled to Bucky telling him of the agreement, nearly twenty-one years ago. His heart ached at the memory of Bucky breaking down and clutching him through the night. Their new relationship had been rocked, but they held steadfast because the love they had for one another was strong and impenetrable. Bucky was one stubborn son of a bitch though, but perhaps he was finally coming around to the forced marriage and the woman forced into their life.

 

 

Steve could not deny the fact that he had found Antonia attractive, any man would be a liar if they said they did not, however he respected the contract his father had entered into and had kept his hands to himself until she turned eighteen.

 

 

Yes, he could have abandoned his search for Antonia when Bucky had begged him to, but Steve was a man scorned. He would not allow a child to humiliate him, nor would he let the boroughs see him as weak.  

 

 

He silently watched Bucky follow Antonia into the kitchen. A smirk breached and he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen where they both leant over the bench smelling freshly baked bread. His smile grew watching Bucky rip open the bread and shove a handful in his mouth, Antonia smiling.

 

 

Ten years after the death of his father, his family was finally starting to feel complete. Well, almost.

 

 

 

_Mo éan beag– my little bird_


	5. Who's The Boss?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse at the power struggle and politics of the boroughs. Antonia learns the harsh lesson in power dynamics and mind games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for continuing with this story. I'm super overwhelmed that you are leaving comments and kudos - I love them! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Steve rubbed his eyes in frustration, imagining his hands around Tony Stark’s throat, squeezing the life out of him. He was the most self-serving and obnoxious borough head, and seemed to take joy in dragging out these meetings with the most mundane and ignorant tales.

 

 

Usually he would have had Bucky by his side to keep him sane, however he was stuck at home babysitting his new wife and Steve had no one to entertain or distract him. Instead, he took pleasure in doodling Bucky and Antonia lying together on their picnic blanket by the fire.

 

 

He should be christening the loft with Bucky and Antonia, or at the house checking on the contractors, not listening to Tony bitch about the upcoming city election.

 

 

“If Pierce is not elected we run the risk of losing our footing in the council. I feel like I am the only one putting in the effort here guys. I can only pretend to be the guy’s friend for so long. Someone needs to step up.” Stark prattled on. Steve rolled his eyes, drained the last of his scotch and slammed his glass down, drawing the attention of his fellow borough leaders. “Problem, Rogers?”

 

 

Steve chuckled, sucking at his teeth. “I think you made your point an hour ago Stark.” His voice was riddled with bitterness. “Some of us actually have things to do.”

 

 

“Ah yes, my daughter. Is she as good a fuck as you remember?”

 

 

Steve burned with anger. “ _My wife_ is a great fuck.” The room stilled as they stared each other down before Steve quickly left the warmth of the old Italian restaurant; Tony’s tacky choice of meeting place.

 

 

His driver, Clint was leaning against the black Range Rover waiting. “Good meeting?” he chuckled noting Steven’s sour demeanour. He closed the door once Steve was sat in the back of the car.

 

 

They rode back to the loft in silence, Steve mulling over the long meeting. Nothing had been achieved regarding the issues involving neither the upcoming election, nor the tenuous trade agreement with Lang’s associates in Mexico.

 

 

The weight dragging on his shoulders lifted as he entered the loft he and Bucky had called home before moving into the brownstone. It had long been their sanctuary from the blood and terror they had inflicted, where they had found comfort in each other’s arms. The familiar scent of the old leather couch and timber floors was soothing.

 

 

He found Bucky lying on the bed reading a book. “Hey punk,” Bucky greeted him with a small smile, their lips finding solace in the others.

 

 

“Where is she?” Steve asked sitting on the bed beside Bucky, toeing off his shoes.

 

 

“In the bath sulking,” Bucky chuckled. “Apparently there’s a problem with the sleeping arrangements. She had a little tantrum and I may have punished her.”

 

 

Steve laughed heartily and pulled Bucky in for a kiss. “Thank you for stepping up, my love. I know this has been difficult.”

 

 

“Anything for you punk.”

 

 

A timid sniffle brought their attention to the doorway of the bathroom. Antonia stood, wrapped up tightly in a bathrobe, her eyes red, her arms wrapped around her waist.

 

 

Steve stood up and made his way over to her. Towering over her, his thumb wiped at the fat tears rolling down her cheek. He coaxed her head up to look at him. “Tell me what happened today, _mo uan beag._ ”

 

 

Her pouted lip wobbled weakly as she hung her head, her ass on fire from Bucky’s punishment. “I thought that you’d want your space.  I didn’t think I’d have to….” She trailed off, holding the robe tighter.

 

 

“Bucky said you acted like a child,” he teased, Bucky smirked.

 

 

“He wasn’t listening to me. I didn’t deserve to be punished.” Her face burned at the memory of Bucky pulling her down over his lap, exposing her ass and spanking her red.

 

 

“Doll, Bucky had every right to punish you. You are still on thin ice. You promised me this morning that you would do as you were told.” His fingers stroked her damp cheeks, wiping away the falling tears. “You’re lucky it wasn’t me because I wouldn’t have used my hand,” he chuckled. “Your place is in that bed with the both of us.”

 

 

“I was only promised to you,” she bit back, immediately regretting losing her temper, Steve bristling at her outburst.

 

 

His body grew tense and he withdrew his hand from her face. “I will tie you to the bed and keep you there all day if I please.” He was pleasantly surprised when she blushed intensely at his threat. “The contract was for you to marry me, but Bucky is a part of me. If I tell you to fuck him you will spread your legs like a good girl. You are not in a position to make demands…”

 

 

“I’m not making demands. You never told me I would have to sleep with Bucky as well. Steve please…”

 

 

Steve’s eyes were dark with rage, his hand shooting to her arm. “I’ve warned you about your tone.”

 

 

“I’m sorry,” she pleaded as he dragged her onto the bed, ripping her dressing gown open, exposing her naked body. His belt rained assault on her already tender behind, his hand firmly pinned to the bed. She sobbed into the comforter, her hands wildly trying to grip onto anything, her eyes drifting to Bucky who watched on in amusement and fascination.

 

 

Steve stood back, his chest heaving with frustration as he studied her darkened arse. “If you did as you were told doll I wouldn’t have to punish you,” he panted watching her fight to cover herself with the robe, the tears flowing freely.

 

 

Antonia’s chest burnt as the sobs wrenched through her body. She hated him with every fibre of her being. She hated Bucky for standing by and letting him assault her with the belt. But mostly she hated herself for the arousal pooling at the juncture of her thighs.

 

 

She froze as Bucky pulled her into his arms and cradled her in his lap. “It’s okay petal, let it out,” he cooed, his beard lightly tickling her cheek. “Sometimes we just have to learn the hard way.” His hand rubbed her back as she gave in to the sobs. Steve watched Bucky comfort her, biting his lip. It was a massive turn on for him.

 

 

“Baby, go get her some cream, I think she’s going to need it,” he said quietly to Steve who obliged and carefully massaged the cream into her skin, Bucky softly whispering words of encouragement in her ear. “Good girl, it will feel so much better tomorrow. Steve will make it better.” She clung on so hard her hands ached.

 

 

Confusion festered as Bucky’s hands caressed her leg, his lips softly peppering her damp face. Arousal blossomed as his fingers teased her clit. “Oh Stevie, she’s impossibly wet. I think she enjoyed that punishment.”

 

 

Steve’s rough calloused hands pulled her legs apart and held them in place, his dark eyes trained on hers. “I can smell how turned on you are, princess.”

 

 

She whimpered as Bucky slowly pushed his finger into her tight channel. “Fuck, she is tight. I’m disappointed you haven’t shared her with me yet, my love.” Steve chuckled, her moan almost guttural as Bucky slowly fucked her with his finger, his palm rubbing against her clit. “Are you going to come for me, love?” His voice was rougher than Steve’s, but equally as deep and rich like tar. He removed his fingers from her pussy and assaulted her clit at a fast tempo.

 

 

Inside Antonia was in a skirmish between arousal, hate, embarrassment and pain. Despite her best efforts to move, Bucky’s strong arms around her body and Steve’s hands on her thighs held her firmly in place. The volcanic pleasure in her lower body was almost too much to bear, her moans only encouraging Bucky to increase speed and pressure.

 

 

Her cries equalled the crescendo of her orgasm. Her body was on fire, head spinning out of control. Bucky eased her through the torturous waves as she crashed down, her hands gripping his chest. Steve pins his body over hers, his lips moving between Antonia’s and Bucky’s.

 

 

Antonia awoke some time later, the winter sky dark and an afghan wool throw placed over her naked form. She blushed, the pain on her rear now a dull throb. Noises from the kitchen pulled her from her reverie, her stomach rumbling with hunger, and the scent of Thai food.

 

 

She slowly pulled on leggings and a jumper, her mixed feelings for Steve and Bucky weighing heavily on her mind. The feeling of Bucky’s fingers in her pussy was burned in her memory.

 

 

In the open-plan living and kitchen, Steve and Bucky were pulling out dishes and cutlery for dinner. They smiled warmly as she entered the room; it set her on edge.

 

 

Steve approached her calmly and ushered her to the dining table, her eyes gawking at the mass of food on the table. He chuckled as she sat down, “I wasn’t sure what you liked and figured you’d be hungry so we ordered a bit of everything.”

 

 

They dug into the food, Steve and Bucky dictating and moving the conversation. Antonia answered questions when asked and listened intently, afraid to rock the boat further than she had already done that day.

 

 

After they washed up and cleaned the kitchen together, Steve insisted they watch a movie together. As he grabbed some beers and Bucky scrolled through Netflix, Antonia sat at the furthest end of the couch, ensuring space from the pair. She felt completely off balance with their Jekyll & Hyde, good cop/bad cop routine.

 

 

Steve came to the couch and tutted her like a child. Antonia conceded and moved up to sit between them both. The warmth of their bodies heat sent electricity through her already taut body; Steve’s arm stretched along the back of the couch, Bucky’s hand lazily caressing her leg.

 

 

She wasn’t even sure what movie Bucky had chosen; her head swam, suffocated by the warmth radiating off their bodies, her body ablaze from their earlier ministrations.

 

 

Steve was amused by her obvious discomfort; she hadn’t stopped fidgeting since the movie started. It had been quite the sight seeing her let go for Bucky. His thumb found a knot in her neck and he gently kneaded it out, smirking as she settled slowly. As her disquietude expelled with the knot, he encouraged her to rest her head on his shoulder. He moved his hand to rest against Bucky, who idly pressed a kiss on his fingers, eyes fixed on the movie.

 

 

As the movie dragged on, he could feel her breath slow down and soon she was lightly sleeping against his shoulder. Bucky noticed and pulled her legs up onto his lap, his hands stroking her legs.

 

 

 

 

_Mo éan beag– my little bird_


	6. The Art of Keeping Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonia learns a lesson in the importance of keeping things secret

Antonia wrapped her thick coat tighter around her body. The late night air was frigid and her bones ached in the cold. Bucky took notice and pulled her closer to him as they approached Red Hook Dock. The Statue of Liberty stood proudly across the harbour, her flame glowing in the dark night. 

 

She was surprised that Steve had called them to meet him; his absence in the night had been a reoccurrence over January. His early morning runs had been replaced with him taking his frustrations out on her. His hushed conversations with Bucky before leaving in the morning could only mean that he was planning something. 

 

Steve stood at the end of the dock, the Brooklyn Ikea Express Ferry visible but shut down for the night. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he surveyed the harbour. 

 

“Hey punk,” Bucky called out as they approached him, the cold air whipping from the harbour. They embraced, sharing a heartfelt kiss.

 

Steve turned to Antonia, her heart dropping at his icy glare. She obediently followed them into the abandoned factory. Time had not been kind, broken glass littered the floor, the remnants of workers left behind and long forgotten. 

 

In what looked like an old meeting room Steve stopped in front of a large wooden trestle table, littered with maps and plans. Antonia forced herself not to look at their details, knowing that she would never be privy to any information. 

 

Bucky leant against an old filing cabinet, the old metal scraping slightly on the concrete floor, sending a shiver down Antonia’s spine. She stood stock still, away from the table as Steve leant both hands on it and hung his head. 

 

“Do you know why I live this life, Antonia?” His voice was levelled and calm, underlying malic sending shivers down her spine. He did not give her the chance to respond. “Because I love my family. I have loyalty to the Fuil Deartháir. I respect the expectations of the boroughs. I respect the laws we have lived by for generations.”

 

Antonia’s heart raced and her blood ran cold with fear as he threw the packet of birth control onto the table. She had thought she had hidden it so well. Steve looked at her, his eyes cold and body rigid. Bucky smirked, enjoying Steve’s alpha performance.

 

“Perhaps I am mistaken, but I thought the pill didn’t help you conceive.” His anger was bubbling like a volcano as he advanced on her. “In fact, doesn’t it stop you from conceiving?” He tilted his head and moved towards her. “What is your role in this family, Antonia?”

 

“To provide you with sons,” it was barely a whisper, the fear raging inside her.

 

“That’s right,” he said and charged at her. Antonia dodged him and tried to escape the room, Steve hot on her heels as she made her way down the tight hallway. “Your only role in this family is to provide children,” he called after her, his voice dark with rage. 

 

Antonia could hear Bucky join the chase, egging Steve on. Turning a corner she discovered a small office and hid inside, turning the lock on the door. She hyperventilated, crouching behind the desk, tears streaming down her face. It had been stupid to try and hide the contraception. She knew the dangers.

 

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Steve’s voice rang through the corridor, his voice sweet like honey, taunting her. “Be a good girl and come to Daddy. If you’re good I promise to take it easy on you. I just want to talk.” Antonia froze as he jiggled the door handle. “Come on baby, talk to Daddy.”

 

She gripped her knees, bowing her head and sobbing. She knew hiding would only make things worst, and her impending punishment was already going to be epic. 

 

“For Wanda,” she whispered to herself. 

 

Her body quaking, she went to the door and opened it. Bucky was stood behind Steve, his arms crossed against his chest. Steve scowled down at her before dragging her by the arm out of the building and to the car.

 

Not a word was said as Steve drove them back to the brownstone. His contractors had worked around the clock, through the night to complete the renovations. Of course, there had been no complaints made to the council about the noise, not when the house belonged to the most feared man in Brooklyn.

 

Inside the house, she silently followed Bucky and Steve upstairs into their bathroom. She was forced to watch Steve drop every pill down the drain, one by one. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Steve turned to look at her. Her body was small, arms wrapped tightly around her chest, her cheeks soaked.

 

“It’s too late for apologies,” he snarled caging her against the wall. “I have been more patient and considering than you deserve. I’ve been lenient with your misgivings. I have not forced you into bed with Bucky. I have not forced you to watch us. I have respected your boundaries. Have I not?”

 

Antonia shivered as his hot breath touched her skin. She pondered over his question. Things could have been worst. In her training to be a wife she’d been forced to listen to horror stories from other young women who had been forced into marriage. She hadn’t been forced to sleep with Bucky, or watch them since the night on the picnic blanket.

 

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was small and broken. Steve smirked; he was finally breaking her down.

 

He grazed his nose along her cheek, taking in her sweet scent. “I know you are.” He caressed her body before clutching her neck. “I think Bucky has been made to wait long enough.” Steve tore her thin t-shirt in half and pulled off her leggings. “Get on the bed and wait like a good girl,” he snarled. 

 

Antonia did as she was told, kneeling on the bed, her skin pebbling against the cold air. She watched Steve and Bucky exchange a few words in the doorway of the bathroom, glancing over at her. 

 

Her heart painfully pounded against her chest as Bucky stalked over to her, his eyes predatory. His lips latched onto her pulse point, his hands wandering the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders. “It would be so easy to just pin you to the bed and fuck you, but then you would want me to take the easy route. Wouldn’t you pet? You want me to force myself on you and you can be a victim.” She cried out as he ran his tongue along the curve of her neck. “I want you to enjoy this, love. Steve wants you to enjoy this. You need to let us take care of you.”

 

His steely grey blue eyes locked onto hers and she felt the air escape from her chest. His hands burnt her skin as they explored her, his eyes never leaving hers. He teased her bra and underwear off, his eyes grazing over her body sending her body aflame. 

 

“You are so beautiful. We are so lucky to get to call you ours.” She blushed at his words; her eyes wandering to Steve who sat on the chaise lounge, watching them. 

 

Bucky gently pressed his lips to hers, taking his time exploring her lips and mouth as he coaxed her to lie on the bed. He alternated between tweaking her nipples and cupping her small breasts, drawing out soft moans from her lips. 

 

He took his time exploring her body, ensuring she was writhing under him, her body betraying her. When his fingers finally descended on the juncture between her thighs she was drenched and aching for more. 

 

“Oh sweet,” he hummed in her ear, replacing his fingers with his cock. Her hands clutched at his back, her nails digging into his taut muscles, her groans primal. He whispered words of encouragement, linking their hands and slowly moved his hips. Her breathy moans urged him on, his lips descending on hers. “You are perfect. My perfect little doll.” 

 

She shuddered as he used one hand to pin her hands above her head, his other hand creeping between their bodies. He raised himself up onto his knees and watched her writhe beneath him, his fingers exploring her thighs and hips, his hips slowing. 

 

He wanted her to beg for it. Beg him to let her come. Antonia was fighting though; fighting against the raging desire he was pulling from her. Repressing the shivers running through her body as her eyes locked with Steve running his hand over his cock.

 

Antonia cracked. “Oh fuck please touch me Bucky. I need you,” she wailed pushing her hips against his. His finger assaulted her clit as he drove his cock in and out of her sopping pussy. 

 

She felt the bed dip beside her, Steve’s lips descending on hers as Bucky fucked her hard. Her orgasm took her by surprise, ripping the air from her lungs. Steve and Bucky encouraged her as she plummeted from her high, tears trailing down her cheeks. They placed soft kisses on her lips, cheek and neck as their hands caressed her damp skin. 

 

Dizzy, drained and burning with shame she made to leave the bed only to be stopped by Bucky who held tightly onto her hips and rutted into her. 

 

Steve kneeled beside her and teased her mouth with the tip of his cock. “Good girl, open up darling,” He sighed, her warm mouth enveloping his thick length, slowly fucking her mouth. 

 

Antonia could feel another orgasm blossoming before Bucky tore his cock out of her pussy and shot cum all over her stomach. Steve pulled out of her mouth, Bucky’s hand taking his cock and jacking him off, their lips battle to dominate the others’. Soon Steve was painting her breasts with his own cum, his chest heaving with satisfaction. 

 

Bucky pressed his body beside her, pressing soft kisses to her lips and face as Steve disappeared from the room. The sound of the bath running caught her attention, the distinct aroma of lemons and cedar wood drifting into the bedroom.

 

After a long hot bath, soaking and cleaning each other, Antonia was surprised when they pulled her into their bed. She slept cocooned between their warm bodies, angry with herself for opening herself up to them.

 

Antonia awoke the next morning enveloped between their warm bodies, both deep in sleep. Slowly, she slipped from Bucky’s heavy arm and made her way into the bathroom. After quickly using the facilities she shimmied into her underwear and slipped on one of Bucky’s jumpers. She snuck downstairs to prepare breakfast. 

 

Tonight she would be hosting her first official borough dinner. Last night she felt she had made good ground in developing trust with Steve, but tonight would be the real test. 

 

Steeling herself as she sipped her coffee, she pulled out her Nona’s handwritten recipe book and started to plan a feast.


	7. An Italian Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonia hosts her first boroughs dinner, plots with Pepper and learns some home truths about her emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so Im getting more nervous about posting chapters as the story progresses.
> 
> I'm going to update the tags the further we go. Fair old warning: this is dark and deals with some triggering things. I don't want to give too much away but I will post trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter and update the tags as the chapter goes up.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my ramblings. I really really hope you enjoy this chapter. Please don't be afraid to drop a note :)

  _“_ Dolce bambino _, gentle with the pork,” Nona Stark chastised her fifteen-year old granddaughter, a twinkle in her eye. “You will bruise the meat and it will not be tender.”_

_Antonia rolled her eyes and continued to aggressively push the meat down into the ground fennel, chilli, bay leaves, salt and lemon. She huffed dramatically before passing the large roll of meat to her Nona to tie._

_“Why the sad sigh?” her grandmother teased. “Ah, it must be boy problems.”_

_Antonia huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “Why are only men allowed in the meeting? Why do I have to be in here helping cook dinner?”_

_Nona Stark chuckled, resting the meat on a tray before placing it into the raging hot oven. “It is the way it has always been bambino. You are a woman, you are expected to in here preparing food for the men.”_

_Her granddaughter scoffed. “That is so antiquated Nona.”_

_“I know my love, but it’s just the way it has always been and always will be,” her Nona replied sadly, moving on to preparing the fresh pasta. “You are too smart for your own good. It might get you in trouble.”_

_“Nona we shouldn’t have to be in here cooking their stupid dinner just because we are women. Times are changing. Things are changing.”_

_Nona Stark laughed sadly, her granddaughters’ fate burning in sight. “Oh Antonia, you’ve got stars in your eyes and clouds in your head.”_

(End flashback)

 

 

Antonia smiled sadly placing the porchetta at the head of the table. Her Nona would be so proud of the feast she had spent the day preparing, or at least she hoped so.

 

 

Soon, Steve and his fellow borough leaders would retreat from their meeting for supper.

 

 

She could hear the low chatter of the leaders’ significant others from the lounge room where Bucky played host.  The women, and a young Peter Parker, had been cold with her the instant she greeted them at the door. She knew she shouldn’t have expected any different; she had all but ostracized herself by running away.

 

 

Feeling dejected, she went back to the kitchen bench to finish the lemon tart. It had been a favourite of her Nona’s. She placed the now cooled candied lemons on top, her mind wandering to the last time she and her Nona had baked this very tart for her uncle Bruce’s birthday. Tears prickled as she felt strong arms wrap around her waist, and facial hair grazing against her cheek.

 

 

“This looks wonderful,” Steve mumbled, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’ve done an amazing job.”

 

 

Antonia blushed at his praise, dusting a fine layer of icing on top. “Thank you. Bucky helped with the table; he’s got a great eye for detail.”

 

 

Steve pulled her to look up at him, his hands cupping her face. “You’re my little dynamic duo.” He pulled her into a searing kiss and she had to fight the urge to pull back. “You’ve been such a good girl. Maybe we can talk about you seeing Wanda. Soon.” She beamed; hope searing in her gut, and kissed him back.

 

 

Antonia tensed as Bucky ushered their guests into the open kitchen/dining area. “I’ll get the wine,” she said quietly and made her way into the cellar Steve had insisted go into the basement. The chatter muted into a comfortable drone in the sanctuary beneath the house. Her hands shook as she pulled out Steve’s prized Merlot.

 

 

“You can do this,” she muttered to herself, resting her forehead against the glass of the wine cabinet. “It is just dinner. Then they will all be gone. And it will just be you, Steve and Bucky.” She froze. “Fuck, T., don’t fall for them. Don’t forget what they are.” Antonia stood up tall, held her head up high and went back up to the kitchen.

 

 

Steve closely watched her open the bottles and pour them into the decanters. She placed them on the table and took her seat beside Steve, Bucky opposite her. Everyone poured his or her glasses.

 

 

Steve cleared his throat, standing and raised his glass, everyone giving him their undivided attention. “To peace amongst the boroughs, strength amongst the boroughs. To blood thicker than water because we are stronger united than we are divided. The balance has been restored,” Antonia shifted uncomfortably, “but we must move on from the past for the greater good. To the boroughs.”

 

 

“To the boroughs,” was heard around the table, glasses clinked. Everyone tucked into his or her food with gusto.

 

 

Pepper, who sat on her right, said, “This rivals your Nona’s cooking.”  
  


 

Antonia chuckled. “Careful, she might hear you.”

 

 

“I’m proud of you, Toni. You’ve dealt with all of this with dignity and grace. I’m always here if you need me.“ A few eyebrows rise around the table, Tony audibly scoffing in disgust. Steve cautiously watched, holding his tongue.

 

 

“I love you Pep.” Antonia pulled the lithe beauty into a tight hug before turning back to her meal, all too aware of Steve’s scrutinising glare.

 

 

The conversation at the meal progressed to the upcoming election, Tony dominating the conversation.

 

 

Antonia jumped as she felt Steve’s hand on her knee, a dark smirk on his lips, attention concentrated on Tony. As his fingers ascended up her leg and under her skirt, her hands gripped at his trying to push him off. She blushed as Pepper caught her attention, a concerned glint in her eye. Antonia shrugged, thankful that her stepmother could not see under the table.  

 

 

Steve puffed his chest out, thrilled at Antonia’s embarrassment. He wanted to test her, push her boundaries, and ensure she knew who was in charge.

 

 

She shoved food into her mouth to mask a groan as his fingers delved into her panties and teased her pussy. He bit his lip, his fingers coated in her juices. He edged her, ignoring her hands clasping onto his thigh as he watched Tony bask in the attention from his guests.

 

 

Antonia gripped his thick, muscular thigh, digging her fingers into him, begging him to stop. No, begging him for more. He concentrated his efforts on her clit, driving her to the precipice and then pulling away before she could fall. He chuckled as she kicked at him under the table, missing and kicking Bucky instead. Bucky glared at her before realising what Steve was doing. He smirked before returning his attention to the second helping of food on his plate.

 

 

Steve pulled away and licked his fingers with an arrogant flair that both turned on and repelled Antonia.

 

 

As soon as their plates were clear, Steve escorted his guests into the lounge room for aperitifs and cigars, offering Antonia a mocking stare

 

 

Antonia groaned as soon as the room was clear. “Fucking piece of shit,” she slammed her head down onto the table.

 

 

“I hope that’s not me you’re talking about.” She shot her head up to see Pepper coming back into the room. “Let me help you clear up, you’ll be at it all night otherwise.”

 

 

They worked as a team to clear the table and load the dishwasher with the plates and cutlery. They reminisced over holidays in the Hamptons as they hand washed all the serving platters.

 

 

“I’ve spoken to Wanda,” Pepper said quietly, ensuring they were clear to talk. “She’s safe, for now. Steve is having her and Pietro followed around the clock.”

 

 

Antonia sighed with relief. “I think Steve is close to letting me see her.”

 

 

“Antonia, Steve is never going to let you see her. He’s using her as bait to get you to comply.”

 

 

Tears pricked at her eyes. Pepper was right. Steve was playing her for a fool and she was weak for letting his charm affect her. “They’re going to kill me when they have their family.”

 

 

“I know,” Pepper sighed sadly and pulled Antonia into a comforting embrace. “Your father is going to invite Steve to the cabin for the Fourth of July holiday. I’ve been keeping some cash aside and you should do the same. There might be a way we can escape that weekend. Br….”

 

 

Antonia pulled back as Steve came into the kitchen.“ Everyone is leaving now Pepper,” he said curtly. “Say goodnight Antonia.”

 

 

“I love you,” Pepper whispered placing a kiss on Antonia’s cheek before leaving the room.

 

 

“What was that about?” Steve’s tone was cold.

 

 

“We were just reminiscing about Nona and her lemon tart,” Antonia lied, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It was the last thing I made with her before she died. I hadn’t made it since until today.”

 

 

She watched Steve relax and make his way over, pulling her into a tight hug. “You are a sentimental creature, Antonia Maria Rogers.” He scented her hair, his hands possessively clutching her throat, before firmly pressing his lips to her. He dominated the kiss, pushing her against the kitchen counter. One hand pressed against her throat as the other pulled up her dress and settled in her panties. “You’re still wet, _mo uan beag_. Your body betrays you so easily.”

 

 

“It used to,” she said huskily, as her hands clasped at his biceps. “I love you.” She slipped in the heat of the moment.

 

 

Steve released her, stepping back surprised. He studied her face and body before storming from the kitchen.

 

 

Tears blossomed as she made her way upstairs and into the bedroom she had first stayed in when they had brought her back to Brooklyn. She hadn’t slept in this room since they had moved into the loft, her residence now solely with Bucky and Steve.

 

 

Antonia slowly stripped her clothes in defeat. She turned on the shower and sat under the cascading hot water, sobbing. “You’re an idiot Antonia Stark, he doesn’t want you to love him,” she chastised herself.

 

 

She felt a presence enter the room, but before she could acknowledge it Steve pulls her out of the shower, without uttering a word. He takes his time drying her off before drawing her into their bedroom, where Bucky sat on the bed with his back against the headboard, his long legs stretched out. He grabs her hand and she straddles him, Steve standing in the doorway.

 

 

It was now or never.

 

 

Antonia cards her hands in Bucky’s soft dark locks, his hands resting on her naked waist. “I love you,” she says, her heart racing. “Both of you.” She twists to look at Steve who silently studies her. “Please believe me.”

 

 

She watches Bucky undo the buttons on his jeans and push them down to his knees. She scolds herself internally when her heart sinks at the realisation that he would not say the words back.

 

 

He watches as she holds his cock steady with one hand and sinks down slowly, her walls stretching to accommodate his considerable width. She sighs as he bottoms out before slowly fucking him, her hands gripping his shoulders for stability.

 

 

Antonia knows Steve is testing her when he joins them on the bed, his jeans removed. She feels his hands explore her lower back and descend to her pussy. His hands wraps around Bucky’s cock forcing her to minimise her movements. Bucky moans and bucks against the new movement, gripping her waist tightly.

 

 

“Not yet Buck,” Steve warns withdrawing his hand. “Keep his cock warm,” he commands Antonia before retreating into the walk in wardrobe. Her hearts stops and her blood runs cold as he returns with a bottle of lube.

 

 

“No,” she begs Steve, moving off Bucky and getting off the bed, “please I can’t. I’m not ready.”

 

 

“If you love us you are ready,” Steve snarled, a malicious smile greeting her.

 

 

Antonia bit back her fears and allowed Bucky to pull her back onto the bed and onto his cock. He held her firmly as Steve pressed a lubed finger against her tight hole. Bucky kept her still as Steve pushed his finger into her slowly. She cried, clutching onto Bucky, not from pain though. It felt good. So good.

 

 

They allow her to adjust before Bucky encourages her to move again, his hands clutching her face, placing soft kisses on her lips. The feeling, the pressure, the slight pain; if there was a heaven, this was it.

 

 

Soon Steve presses a second finger in, Bucky coaxing her to orgasm with his fingers furiously rubbing against her clit. As she caught her breath from the overwhelming orgasm Steve replaced his fingers with his cock. She cried out, grasping at the sheets, at Bucky as her hole stretched with Steve.

 

 

Everything is a blur as they move in tandem; Antonia felt like she was floating. She could just feel the bites and kisses on her body, her body sagging against Bucky as she came so hard against his fingers that the world spun.

 

 

Bucky came first, biting her neck as he painted her walls with his hot come. He held her tightly as Steve pounded into her, finally coming with a euphoric growl.

 

 

They held on to each other, finding their breaths before pulling out and laying her down on the bed. Her vision focusing as she felt a warm damp wet cloth pressed over her body.

 

 

Bucky pulled her against his chest, Steve pressed against her back, their hands soothing her. “You’re a good girl,” Steve cooed in her ear, placing soft kisses on her shoulder as she started to drift off into a deep sleep.

 

_Dolce bambino – sweet child_

_Mo éan beag– my little bird_


	8. And The Cracks Start To Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonia is falling hard and fast and take a glimpse into the world of Mistress Hela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for all the amazing comments, kudos and bookmarks. I'm a happy little wombat.
> 
> Things are going to get a little dark... I'm issuing a trigger warning for miscarriage - it's not super detailed but if you're uncomfortable skip the end of the chapter!

 

_Antonia clutched her hands tightly in her lap, the chatter surrounding her all but white noise. From across the freshly manicured lawn she could feel Steve’s possessive gaze on her as he stood with Bucky and T’Challa who were engaged in conversation._

_“When did you find out?” The voice startled her; her eyes tearing away from the plate she had been transfixed on for most of the awkward luncheon._

_“I’m sorry?” Antonia asked turning her attention to the pretty bald young woman sat beside her._

_The girl smiled shyly. “I’m Nebula from Boston. I found out I was promised to Ronan four years ago. This is my last year of school.”_

_“Antonia, Manhattan. I found out two years ago. Steve Rogers.” She cringed as Nebula took a sharp breath. “I’ve just finished my senior year.”_

_“I’ve not seen you around before. Is this your first time at one of these events?” Nebula asked quietly, pushing her fork through the petite cake on her plate. Antonia nodded, shuddering as she caught a glimpse of her father clasping his hand on Steve’s shoulder before embracing him. “You need to pretend to be brave,” Nebula said moving closer to Antonia. “Men like Steve, they get off on the fear. It makes taking away your control more…” There was a dark pause._

_“Is Ronan a good man?” Nebula shrugged in response. “I’ve heard things about Steve, he’s not a good man.”_

_“There’s no such thing as a good man in this world.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger towards a beautiful, petite brunette standing beside a tall, thick blonde god. “That’s Jane Foster. She was in love with someone from school but when she turned eighteen her father forced her to marry the man standing with her, Thor. At first she was compliant, but then he found out that she was still in love with her boyfriend. Thor had him killed in front of Jane, after making the boyfriend watch him…”_

_Of course, over the months of her training, Antonia had heard stories of young women who had been forced into marriage, stories of terrified young women being beaten into submission and forced into pregnancy._

_Close by she could see Mistress Hela lurking, watching her closely._

_“Is Mistress Hela your trainer?” Nebula asked, their food long forgotten. Antonia nodded, too afraid to draw attention. “She trained my sister, Gamora. She’s terrifying.”_

_They hushed as Mistress Hela walked by within earshot. Once it was clear, Antonia pushed her chair closer to Nebula. “None of my friends are… like us. It’s so nice to be able to talk to someone else.”_

_Nebula smiled sadly. “Me too. My sister got married a few years ago and I haven’t seen her unless we are at gatherings, and then she’s glued to him.”_

_“Antonia,” Mistress Hela drawled, approaching them like a panther. “Come.”_

_“It was nice to meet you Nebula,” Antonia said, squeezing her companion’s small hand, before obediently following her trainer into the large Hampton’s mansion._

_Antonia’s stomached dropped as they entered the large library, Steve leant against the desk with a glass of scotch in his hand. He looked so powerful, his pants perfectly tailored to showcase his muscular legs, his shirt open at his chest, his sleeves rolled up. Her heart fluttered as his eyes met hers before a shiver ran down her spine. Tony lurked in the corner, his eyes trained on his daughter._

_“Doesn’t your future wife look a pretty picture?” Hela said coaxing Antonia over to Steve._

_“I’m a very lucky man,” Steve said in a dark honeyed tone, his eyes slowly grazing over her body._

_“Antonia has been a wonderful student,” Hela continued, her fingers caressing over Antonia’s face. “She will make a wonderful wife. Antonia, why don’t you share with Steve what we have accomplished in our training.”_

_Antonia bit back the dark memories. Hela beating her with a ruler across the hands when she misbehaved. Being forced to write lines about the merits of being a good, dutiful wife. Being tied down to a chair, Natasha holding a knife to her throat, detailing the punishment she would endure if she ever broke the rules._

_Antonia had a plan though. Antonia was going to escape._

_“I have been trained to obey your every command. My body and my mind are yours to control. My role is to provide you sons and follow your orders.”_

_She dared to look up, meeting Steve’s eyes. Fuck. “You’ve done a marvellous job, Mistress Hela.”_

 

 

****

 

 

Antonia awoke, Steve and Bucky long gone. Her body ached in the most delicious way but her heart was heavy. She was falling for them both and hard.

 

 

As she took a long hot shower she wondered if maybe she was developing Stockholm syndrome. Or maybe she was just thirty levels of fucked up. She knew their affection last night was just a ruse, a game. But a part of her, deep down in the pit of her soul, longed for them to love her.

 

 

Dressed in dark blue skinny jeans, and a white button down shirt, her black lace bra just exposed, she made her way downstairs into the kitchen. Steve smiled and embraced her as she approached them, Bucky smiling at her from his place on the barstool.

 

 

“How are you feeling this morning?” Steve chuckled moving her shirt aside to examine the bite mark Bucky had left the previous night. He placed a gentle kiss on the dark bruise sending shivers down her spine.

 

 

“Content,” she sighed leaning against him, lying through her teeth. “Last night was incredible. Thank you for pushing me.” That was no lie. Her body was still buzzing at the memory of last night.

 

 

Bucky chuckled and coaxed her over, to which she obliged. He pulled her against his body, shifting her to face Steve on the other side of the counter, his chin resting against her shoulder. “You were incredible last night. That’s only just the beginning.”

 

 

Steve offered her a coffee, which she took more than willingly. “Your father has offered to host us for the Fourth of July weekend at his cabin.”

 

 

She beamed. “You’re going to love it. It’s in the heart of Adirondack Park. We could go rock climbing and hiking. Swimming in the lake at night is the best. I hope he still has his canoes. Oh and there is a great brewery there.” Bucky chuckled at her enthusiasm. “One summer, Wanda and I went there and got so drunk I thought dad was going to have a coronary when he found us skinny dipping in the lake.”

 

 

“I didn’t pick you for the wild child type,” Bucky said with a laugh.

 

 

“It was the one and only time I got in trouble with my dad,” she said with a blush. “Let’s just say he kept a tight leash on me from then on.”

 

 

“Well I look forward to you showing us around,” Steve said moving around the counter and placing a kiss on her lips. “I have to go into the office for a few hours but I will be back this afternoon.” He stroked Bucky’s cheek before lustfully claiming his lips.

 

 

An idea struck Antonia as she watched Steve move to collect his leather messenger bag from the kitchen bench, plucking up what courage she could. “Can I please use the computer today?”

 

 

Surprised, Steve turned to look at her. His eyes met Bucky’s before returning to hers. “And why would you need to use the computer?”

 

 

Calming her taut nerves she placed her mug on the counter and approached him, leaving the comfort of Bucky’s arms. “Well it’s been so long since I was there I could do some research and put together a list of things we could do. And I was thinking, maybe I could look at getting something special to wear that weekend, for you both.” The lies seemed to roll off her tongue naturally.

 

 

Steve and Bucky looked at each other before Steve agreed. “Only on the condition that Bucky is with you at all times. Do you understand?”

 

 

Antonia batted her eyelashes and gripped his navy shirt. “Yes sir.”

 

 

Steve all but growled before pulling her into a punishing kiss. “Call me that again kitten and I won’t let you leave the bedroom every again.” He turned to Bucky and said with a cockiness that flamed her desires, “We’ve turned her into a right little sex kitten. Both of you behave.”

 

 

They watched him leave the room before Bucky insisted on sitting her on his lap and handfeeding her breakfast.

 

 

Later that morning, Antonia was finally allowed to use the laptop. She sat on a floor cushion, her back resting in-between Bucky’s legs and the laptop sat on the marble coffee table.

 

 

She flitted between a detailed map of the park and Agent Provocateur’s website. The cabin was on East Lake in Lake Placid, a fair distance from other private cabins. Carefully examining the map, hoping to not draw too much attention, she tried to recollect the surrounding roads and more popular walking trails. That time of the year it would be busy with tourists. This could work to her advantage.

 

 

Antonia was startled as she felt Bucky’s fingers weave through her hair and pulling on her shirt to expose her shoulder. “I’m bored, play with me.”

 

 

She chuckled turning to look at him. “Don’t you want me to find something nice to wear for you?”

 

 

“I’d rather have your mouth on my cock.” Her stomach fluttered and she bit her lip. “Come on baby, daddy needs some attention.” He ran his tongue over his lip, his cock hardening as she blushed. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb caressed her lip. “You’re so pretty when you blush. Open your shirt, I want to see your tits.”

 

 

Antonia stood up and complied, pulling the tucked shirt out of her jeans and undoing the buttons. Her body was aflame with desire as she watched Bucky undo his pants and shuck them off along with his underwear.

 

 

Getting on her knees between his legs, she wrapped her hands around his cock and sucked on his balls, just the way he liked it. He carded his hands in her long curly hair, his chest heaving as his cock hit the back of her throat.

 

 

“Fuck princess, Steve’s trained you so well,” he groaned, forcing himself not to fuck her throat.

 

 

Steve entered the brownstone, grinning at the discernable moans coming from the lounge room. He grinned, leaning against the doorway watching Antonia bob her head, Bucky’s cock glistening as her mouth teased him.

 

 

“Well this is a nice surprise to come home to.”

 

 

Bucky looked around, grinning like a Cheshire cat, his hand keeping Antonia on his cock.  “Come here big boy and let her put on a show.”

 

 

They took turns fucking her on the couch, drawing out orgasm after orgasm from her tired body, littering her alabaster skin with bites before coming in her one after the other.

 

 

She awoke some time later her head in Bucky’s lap, his fingers combing through her hair, her legs resting on Steve’s lap as he worked on the laptop. They’d kindly wrapped her naked form in a warm blanket.

 

 

“Welcome back sleeping beauty,” Steve teased.

 

 

She blushed, getting up to put her clothes on. Once dressed, she announced that she would go prepare dinner.

 

 

“Not tonight baby, you cooked all day yesterday, we can have take out tonight. You deserve it,” Steve said pulling her back onto the couch, and resting her head on his chest. Antonia heart raced as he examined the map of the park she had been looking at before. “You weren’t planning on escaping on our little trip, were you princess?” He rested his hand on her thigh, squeezing.

 

 

“Of course not,” she said sitting up, her back bumping into Bucky who had moved closer. “I was trying to find this hiking path we used to take to this secluded waterfall. It’s a great place to swim in private or take photos. It’s technically on dad’s land so there shouldn’t be any tourists.”

 

 

Steve chuckled closing the browser and placing the laptop on the coffee table. “Pepper has invited you to a spa day at Shibui Spa. Apparently it’s a Galentine’s Day tradition or something. I’ve told her you can go on the condition that Bucky and Natasha join you.”

 

 

Antonia shuddered. Natasha terrified her. She was an absolute force. “She’s going to hate it you know,” she chuckled, trying to mask her anxiety.

 

 

“Natasha does as she is told,” Steve said before lifting her chin to look at him. “You’ve been a good girl lately, so I am allowing you to spend time with Pepper. Don’t let me down.”

 

 

////

 

 

Antonia had been feeling unwell for a good part of the week. She put it down to nerves and excitement. She was thrilled to be spending time with Pepper, but was edgy about seeing Natasha. The last time she had seen her, the Russian beauty had held a knife to her throat and threatened to slit her throat.

 

 

Bucky left her at the entrance to the women’s changing room where she found Pepper and Natasha already in their robes.

 

 

“Toni, are you alright?” Pepper asked as she approached them and started to strip off. “You look pale.”

 

 

“I’m fine,” Antonia said unconvincingly. “Just tired I think.”

 

 

“You’re not pregnant are you?” Natasha said coldly.

 

 

Antonia refused to acknowledge her, as she wrapped herself in the warm fluffy robe. “What are we doing first, Pep?” The irony of having facials and pedicures with two of New York’s deadliest mobsters would have made Antonia laugh if the possibility of being killed was not a reality.

 

 

After massages they changed into bathing suits and soaked in the heated swimming pool. Bucky and Natasha gave them some distance, remaining in hearing distance, but engaged in their own conversation.

 

 

“I’ve found a couple walking trails we never got to try,” Antonia told Pepper, hidden meaning behind her statement.

 

 

“That sounds great. I can’t wait to go hiking with you again. Your dad used to go mad when we’d go for hours leaving him on his own,” Pepper chuckled, trying to keep the conversation light.

 

 

Antonia doubled over as her stomach was hit with an intense cramp. “Shit,” she groaned, Pepper quickly pulling her into a tight embrace. Her skin was on fire but her body was ice cold.

 

 

“Sshh,” Pepper said quietly in her ear. “Toni, are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

 

 

“I don’t know,” she sobbed clutching her abdomen. “I’ve been so stressed…”

 

 

“I think you’re having miscarriage.” Her heart broke as her stepdaughter sobbed in pain and panic. “I know honey, but we need to get you somewhere private. They can’t know.” Pepper pulled her away, coaxing her to turn her back to the pair. “Hey Bucky, I just need to take Antonia to the bathroom.”

 

 

Bucky swam over and looked over Antonia. “What’s wrong?”

 

 

“Cramps,” Pepper interrupted, wrapping her arm around her stepdaughters shaking shoulders. “Her periods were always so painful when she wasn’t on the pill.”

 

 

Bucky nodded, and watched Natasha follow Pepper lead Antonia to the change rooms, nearly doubled over. Once in the change rooms, Pepper rushed Antonia into the toilet, closing the door on Natasha.

 

 

“Open the door, Pepper.” Natasha banged on the door.

 

 

“It’s nothing Natasha, back off,” Pepper snarled.

 

 

Antonia shucked her suit down, the pain neutralising any embarrassment of her nude body. She clutched onto Pepper, panic soaring through her body as she noticed red clots on the lining of her bathing suit.

 

 

“Pepper, he’s going to kill me,” she whimpered quietly.

 

 

Before Pepper could respond, Natasha kicked down the door, her eyes widening at the blood.


	9. Woes of Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We go back in time to the night Steve receives his prize.
> 
> Warning: this chapter is an ocean of questionable consent. Antonia is 18 in this chapter.

_The champagne bubbles danced on her tongue as she surveyed the party. Her friends milled around the lavish pool and fire pit, enjoying the smorgasbord of treats and alcohol. Her father, as usual, was the centre of attention at the cigar bar. Her stepmother Pepper was unusually quiet, standing by Tony’s side. Something was wrong, but Antonia couldn’t put her finger on what._

_At the bar she spied her new fiancé, Steve, deep in conversation with his boyfriend Bucky and best friend Sam Wilson, their eyes occasionally travelling to her, sending her heart spiralling to the ground._

_Antonia had been expected to attend her engagement party, carefully masqueraded as her birthday party, put on a fake smile and pretend to be happy. But, deep down, she was terrified._

_“Toni.” Wanda handed her a shot of vodka that she downed happily. “I know it’s hard but you have to put that happy mask back on. You’re drawing attention.” Her voice was low and cautious though she wore a bright smile that never reached her eyes._

_“Something’s wrong, Wanda,” Antonia said quietly, the vodka burning._

_“I know you’re scared…”_

_“No, Wanda, something is very wrong. I have a really bad feeling,” her eyes trained on Steve who glanced over, his eyes mirroring his dark smirk._

_Her reverie was broken as Wanda linked hands with her and pulled her into the house. Steve’s house. Because like everything in her life, her party belonged to Steve now._

_“I can’t do this Wanda, I’m scared,” Antonia breaks down in the safety of the bathroom._

_“You need to stay strong,” Wanda begged, holding her best friends arms. “It’s just one more night. We have to stick to the plan.”_

_“I wish you would come with me,” Antonia sighed sadly. “I love you Wanda.”_  
  
  


_“I love you, too. One more night, I promise. You are so brave and so strong. Come on, we need to get back before they notice we’re gone.”_

_Antonia followed Wanda out of the bathroom; their hands clasped tightly and stepped into the hallway._

_“Please tell me my daughter wasn’t making out in the bathroom with her best friend.” They spun around to see Tony smirking. “Antonia, I need you to come with me. Wanda, nice to see you, but Happy will drive you back to the city.”_

_Wanda pulled Antonia into a tight hug. “Tomorrow at 2pm. I love you.”_

_Antonia watched her best friend follow Happy out to the main foyer._

_“Come on princess, I have a surprise for you,” Tony said from her side, linking his arm with hers and escorted her upstairs. She froze as he stopped at the door to the master bedroom. “You’re a woman now, Antonia. And part of being a woman sometimes involves doing things that we are not comfortable doing.”_

_“Please, dad…” she begged, shaking with fear, trying to disconnect from her father’s tight grip._

_“And when you are good you are rewarded. Your husband-to-be has performed well for me recently,” he pushed the door open, revealing Steve standing by the Californian King bed, a smug smile on his face, “and you my little petal are his prize.”_

_In the corner of the room, she noticed a video camera on a tripod, the little red light flashing. Antonia panicked, trying to pull away from her father. “Now, now, Antonia,” Steve cooed approaching her and pulling her flush to his body, “think of this as a practice run.”_

_“Why is there a camera?” Antonia cried, pointing to the tripod._

_“Evidence, collateral and personal reasons,” Steve said, his fingers too close to her jugular._

_“I’ll leave you two love birds to it,” Tony chuckled and left the room, closing the door behind him with a mocking wink._

_Antonia immediately broke free, tears streaming down her face, and made a break for the door. She pulled the door open, before Steve slammed it shut, the strong muscles in her arm taunting her._

_“Come on baby,” he growled in her ear, pinning her against the door, her face pressing against the door, “I’ll make it good for you.” She struggled against him, but he was too strong. It was so easy to overpower her. “I like your friend Wanda. She’s a pretty young thing. It would be a shame…”_  
  
  


_“I’ll be good,” Antonia, cried out, too frightened to hear the threat. “Please, Steve, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt Wanda.”_

_Steve pulled her around to look at him, his face victorious. His fingers played with her curled hair. “That’s my good girl. You dressed so pretty for me tonight. Like my own little doll.”_

_Antonia steeled herself under his scrutinising gaze and allowed him to pull her towards the bed. Steve towered over her, his fingers caressing the buttons on her silk navy playsuit, before undoing them one by one as slowly as he could, feeding on the tension. His fingers teased her skin as he pushed the playsuit down her body, falling onto the ground._

_“Oh my little doll,” his eyes were blown dark with lust, “you are a pretty sight. Did you wear this just for me?” His fingered the delicate pale pink lingerie. “But of course you did, because I bought this for you, didn’t I? I wanted you to look special for your birthday.”_

_Antonia blushed, too afraid to make eye contact with him. “Will you hurt me?”_

_Steve chuckled, caressing her cheek before pulling her chin up to lock eyes. “It will hurt a little, but I promised I would take care of you.”_

_She nodded and watched as he stood back and shed his clothes, lapping up the trepidation leeching off her body. Antonia couldn’t help but gasp; fuck he was beautiful. Fuck he was big. He was all muscle and pristine porcelain skins._

_She timidly reached her hand out and ran her hand down his abs. Steve chuckled darkly, gripping her hand and pulling it behind her back, as she cried out in pain. “Doll, I did not give you permission to touch me.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Antonia whimpered as his hand grasped her neck. “I didn’t know. I’ve never done this before.”_

_Steve’s eyes blew with lust and released her neck. “Of course not, my little doll. You kept your precious gift just for me, haven’t you? You kept all those nasty boys away from your tight little body just so I could be the one to pluck your flower,” his hand descended and cupped her pussy. “Tell me, was I the first to kiss you?”_

_Shame pinched at her nerves but her body warmed under his touch and gaze. She watched him let her go and sit on the bed, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn to face him._

_“Take off the rest, my little doll. I want to see you.” His voice was so dark it scraped down her spine. Taking a deep breath Antonia turned to face him. “Look at me. Do not take your eyes off me.”_

_Despite the screaming voice in her head to run, get out, she obeyed, slowly taking off her soft lace bra and panties, her eyes locked on Steve. The look in Steve’s eyes was dangerous, and she was ashamed to admit she liked the way she felt under his gaze._

_His kiss is tender as he coaxed her to straddle him, his hands softly exploring her shoulders, neck and breasts. The pragmatic voice in her head warned her not to give in to his false act of solicitude. This wasn’t the real Steven Grant Rogers._

_He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and laid her gently down onto the bed. Antonia choked on her breath as he grasped her thighs, spreading her legs, planting her feet together, and examined her._

_“Put your hands above your head and do not move them. You won’t like the consequences if you do.” His ego flared as she complied, her cheeks blushing furiously. He dragged his fingers over her labia, satisfied to find she was drenched. “You look so sweet my little doll,” he crooned before sucking his finger clean, “and you taste so sweet too.”_

_He crowded her over, one hand cupping her cheek as his free hand returned to her labia. Slowly, he pushed his finger into her tight pussy. It took all his will power not to come there and then._

_“You’re so tight, my sweet,” he whispered huskily into her ear before his lips mapped their way down her neck to her taut nipples, his finger fucking slowly. “It feels good, doesn’t it? I bet you used to do this to yourself at boarding school. Did you think of me?” He chuckled as she blushed and shivered as their eyes met. “Oh you did, did you? That’s an image I will happily take with me for future reference.” His chuckle was dark._

_He removed his finger and stroked her clit. “I’m going to make you come, my little doll, and then, I’m going to put my cock in your tight little pussy, tear your hymen and then fuck you like you need.”_

_Antonia wanted to point out that he wouldn’t actually tear her hymen but the fear all but stamped out her need to correct him and dampen down his ridiculous alpha notions._

_Her moans grew louder as she gave in to his ministrations and filthy words. “You are so responsive, the perfect little doll. I’m going to have so much fun with you.”_

_“Oh fuck, Steve,” she whimpered, struggling to keep her arms in place._

_“I know, I know. Come on my fingers, you will feel so much better.” She needed little encouragement, her whole body seizing as she came hard, and her cries echoing through the room._

_Before she could regain her senses Steve lined himself with her pussy and buried his cock in her. The pain ripped through her, catching her breath in her chest and she grasped at him._

_Steve just chuckled darkly and started to piston his hips. “Sshhh my sweet, it will be over soon. There’s no need to cry.” He ran his tongue over the tears racing down her cheeks. He tore orgasm after orgasm from her exhausted body._

_Panic set in when she realised he was close. “No, please Steve, not in me.” He ignored her, racing to the end and spilling his seed with a roar._

_He held her possessively all night, a reminder that she was forever his._

_She woke bone-tired the next morning, her muscles aching. Sitting up she observed Steve sitting on the plush bench at the foot of the bed, tying his shoelaces._

_“Happy is outside in the car waiting for you,” his voice as cold as ice._

_She watched him leave the room without as much as a glance. Shame and disgust boiled in her gut as she dressed and made her way to the waiting Range Rover._

_“Good morning, Miss Stark,” Happy said he drove them off the property. “Where to?”_

_“Can you take me back to the city please? I promised Wanda I’d spend the afternoon with her at the museum. I promise we will be back in time for dad’s party.”_

_Steve stood in the bay window watching the Range Rover depart his property, the scotch burning his throat. He spied Bucky standing behind him, his face drawn and eyes dark._

_“How was she?” Bucky’s voice dripped with venom, Steve hung his head in shame. “Oh, she was that good?”_

_“Bucky,” Steve turned around, Bucky instantly regretting his tone seeing the distraught look on his lover’s face, “I’m sorry.”_

_“No, I’m sorry. I love you.”_

_The American Museum of Natural History had been a hideaway for the best friends since they were children. Antonia had fond memories of her mother taking them both on weekends. It was within these walls that her dream to be an environmental lawyer had been born._

_She found Wanda looking up at the T-Rex, the room bustling with children and tourists. Holding hands, they silently made their way around the room, exploring the exhibits they knew by heart._

_“Come with me,” Antonia pleaded softly, all too aware that Clint Barton was watching them from his perch by the exit._

_“I can’t leave Pietro and my mom.”_

_“Bring them…”_

_“I can’t Antonia. She’s too sick… You must be brave and do this on your own.”_

_“They will kill you…”_

_“I will be fine,” Wanda said with the most sincere smile. “At coat-check is a bag for you. Your ticket and passport are inside; you must get to JFK and get beyond customs before they catch you. You have the cash, right?”_

_“Yes, it’s in my bag. I’ve been carrying it with me everywhere just in case someone found it. I wish we had more time.”_

_“You will be amazing, Antonia. I’m going to cause a distraction. Get the bag and get out.” They embraced, fighting the urge to break down, Wanda slipping her coat check receipt into her friends’ hand. “Go.”_

_Antonia made her way to the exit, Clint watching her closely. “Going somewhere?” he asked venomously._

_“Bathroom,” she snapped, before an almighty crash broke their reverie, and Clint was on the floor, Wanda standing over him with a_ No Cameras Allowed _sign._

_One final sad smile, and Antonia raced to coat check, where she retrieved her bags and dumped her phone in a nearby bin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind comments and the kudos and bookmarks. It's bloody delicious fuel. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter. The last chapter was rough and I promise the next chapter will be back on track with the aftermath. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment with the good, bad and ugly!


	10. I See Your True Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone shows their true colours. We have a little insight to Bucky and Steve before Antonia.

_Steven Grant Rogers was radiating with fury as he paced the floor of his office, the mobile phone crunching under his foot, where it had been laying since he had ended the phone call from Tony and it had met an untimely end with the wall._

_“Get in here!” His voice echoed down the hallway, the rage evident. His eyes tore to the door as Bucky and Sam Wilson slowly entered, the remnants of the phone cracking under their feet. “She’s gone.”_

_“Who’s gone?” Bucky asked carefully, all too aware of the gun glued to Steve’s hand._

_“Antonia Maria Stark,” Steve growled and kicked the desk, sending it toppling over, its contents flying in all directions. “I am going to hunt that stupid little bitch down and I am going to make her pay.”_

_Sam and Bucky shared a wary look before Bucky cautiously approached Steve and coaxed him into a hug. “Anything for you punk.”_

****

 

Antonia had always thought growing up the greatest loss she would feel was losing her mother. That loss would never be overshadowed by the prospect of losing her freedom to a cruel marriage. However, the miscarriage completely washed away any old impressions left by the loss of her mother.

  

Antonia felt like a failure. She felt like she was letting Steve, Bucky, the boroughs and the Fuil Deartháir down all at once. Deep down she knew it was out of her control, but the last three months had revolved around her getting pregnant. She had lost herself completely.

 

From the bay window of the guest bedroom, her old bedroom, she had a perfect vantage of Steve and Bucky in their small backyard. Leant against the brick wall, the remnants of cigarettes at their feet, they were deep in conversation. 

 

She felt hollow. Lost. Drained. And apologetically relieved. No child should have to be brought up in their world. It was dangerous and toxic. A son would be forced to take over the borough, a female forced into marriage for the sake of alliance.

  

But that didn’t change the fact that her entire being was plunging into the depths of mourning and everything from here on looked bleak.

 

Antonia leant her head against the window and watched Steve pull Bucky into his arms, both sobbing.

  

The memory of disappointment leeching off Steve when he walked into the hospital room stung. Not that she could blame him. She had failed. She had failed on her promise to bear a child for the boroughs. For Steve and Bucky.

 

She sat there for hours watching Bucky and Steve console each other against the dilapidated brick wall. In her hand the Polaroid of her and Wanda is crinkled from her constant fondling.

  

Antonia needed, no yearned to be consoled. Tell her she would be okay. That is wasn’t her fault. She imagined Pepper at her side, running her long fingers through her stepdaughters’ hair, sharing her own story of loss.

  

She was too caught up in her own thoughts to notice Steve and Bucky make their way back into the house.

  

She looked down at the Polaroid. It had been epic, the New Years’ before her sixteenth birthday. They both looked so young and carefree. Free from the burden of the boroughs, marriage, children…

 

Antonia angrily wiped away the tears from her cheek, the Polaroid thrown onto the floor and looking back out the window, the old fire house just visible over the rooftops.

  

“What are you doing in here?” Antonia couldn’t bring herself to look at Steve who stood in the doorway, Bucky already retired to the master bedroom. “You should be in bed resting.”

  

“I thought you would want some space. I was going to stay in here for a while.”

 

“It’s been a long day, Antonia. Please just come to bed.” His voice was drawn and tired, but she didn’t flinch. “Antonia,” he warned.

  

“You should be with Bucky. You both need time together to…” she sighed, “mourn.” Antonia didn’t move as she heard Steve approach and sit opposite her on the window bay. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

  

“No,” his hand gripped hers, “this is not your fault. Dr Strange said that sometimes…” he couldn’t bring himself to finish. She looked up to see tears bristling in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.” His thumbs softly wiped away the tears spilling over her cheeks. “We will get through this together, as a family. I love you Antonia.”

  

Her heart stilled and a chill ran through her body. Her eyes desperately searched his for the truth.  He pulled her to his body and held her tight as she broke down.

  

****

 

_Bucky was in love. Head over heals in love with Steve Rogers. His heart fluttered as he recalled their evening together. An afternoon spent at Coney Island, dinner on the pier, and obscene amount of making out on the ferris wheel, in the car, at his front door. It had been perfect. So so perfect._

_His lips still tingled as he rinsed his mouth, still pink from Steve’s possessive manhandling. Bucky studied his reflection as he combed his long dark hair; unable to control the smile he wore. The love bite on his neck Steve’s mark, a warning to the world that Bucky Barnes belonged to Steve Rogers. That Steve Rogers loved Bucky Barnes._

_It was thrilling, hiding their love from the world. Concealed from Steve’s father, the great leader of the Brooklyn borough, the Fuil Deartháir. They were like Romeo and Juliet, hopefully without the messy ending._

_The sudden crash from his bedroom brought him from his reverie. His trusty switchblade in his hand, he cautiously makes his way down the hallway and into his room._

_“Steve?” Bucky’s heart stops at the sight of his lover, tears streaming down the usually composed man’s face, the switchblade falling to the floor. “Baby, what’s wrong?”_

_“I need you to sit down, Buck,” Steve said with trepidation. Bucky felt a rush of nausea sweep through him, but he complies because he loves Steve and would do anything he asked. Steve grasped Bucky’s hands in his, his thumbs tracing an invisible path along his soft skin. “The Guardians of Jersey are going to strike New York. Father is going to forge an alliance with Stark, pull all the boroughs together.”_

_“That’s great, isn’t it?”_

_Steve sniffled, tears flowing freely. “For the Fuil Deartháir it is great news. The boroughs will be united again.” Bucky caressed Steve’s cheek, silently begging him to continue. Just put him out of his misery. Steve sighed, afraid that if he looked his lover in the eyes he would crack. “Seven years ago father signed an alliance with Tony Stark. The Guardians were making threats and they thought it best to align their resources. It wasn’t necessary to ratify the agreement as the Guardians never came through on their threats.”_

_“And now?” Bucky didn’t need Steve to tell him. He was all too aware of what happened between mob houses in America. He wasn’t stupid._

_“In eleven years I will be engaged to Antonia, Tony’s daughter. We will marry the following year.” And for the first time in his young, but hard lived life, Steven Grant Rogers broke down in the arms of the love of his life. “I don’t want anyone in my life but you, Buck.”_

_“Steve,” Bucky said pulling him away and stared in straight in the eyes, with as much strength as he could muster, “I will be there for you every step of the way. No matter what. You are mine as I am yours, forever.”_

  

****

  

The borough heads were locked in Tony Stark’s office whilst Antonia helped Pepper prepare dinner. Bucky was no help, helping himself to the tower of cannoli.

  

“Bucky,” Pepper snapped hitting his hand with a spatula, “get out of this damn kitchen.”

  

Antonia laughed watching Bucky leave the room chuckling, his mouth full of the sweet pastry. “He’s like a bottomless pit. He just eats all the time.”

  

Pepper stilled but didn’t question the affection in her stepdaughters’ voice. She was in a vulnerable state and Tony’s apartment was not a safe space to be honest. 

 

The sound of a door slamming drew their attention to the living room where Steve stormed out onto the balcony, Bucky following closely behind. Slowly May Parker and T’Challa followed behind.

 

“I guess that went well,” Pepper said sarcastically, Antonia scoffing. “I should go check on Tony.”

  

Dinner was a tense affair; little was said and probably with good reason. Steve was sullen and reticent, snapping at anyone who dared speak to him. Tony watched Steve unravel with glee, throwing back the scotch with mirth.

 

Tony took the opportunity to break the awkward silence. “So Antonia, when am I going to be a granddad?”

  

Her fork fell from her hand as she froze, embarrassment flooding her. She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Excuse me.” Of course her father knew, everybody knew about the miscarriage. Little could be kept secret in their world.

  

Steve watched on as she stormed from the room. “Really, Tony? You can’t just give her one moment to grieve? She’s your own daughter…”

  

“I am well aware that she is my daughter. I’m well aware she is the reason I have only one daughter and not a son. I was there Rogers, were you?” Tony mirrored his daughter and stormed from the table, his plate untouched, and slammed the office door shut.

 

Antonia stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, pushing down the overwhelming self-loathing and guilt. She wouldn’t cry. She would not give Tony Stark the satisfaction or the power of seeing her hurt.

  

She left the bathroom, with the intention to convince Steve and Bucky it was time to leave, but the sound of her father on the phone drew her attention. The door to the study was ajar and she could just see her father pacing the room, his phone glued to his ear.

  

“He’s cracking like an egg, it’s beautiful. He’s weak like his father.” Antonia furrowed her brows, checking the hallway for any incoming staff. Tony laughed obnoxiously. “I assure you, Mr Pierce, that young Mr Rogers will meet the same fate as his father. That’s right sir. As long as there is a bun in the oven we can move ahead with our plan.”

  

Antonia bit back the urge to vomit.  Tony ended the conversation and made towards the door. Panicked, she eyed the open laundry door and hid inside as Tony stalked out of the study and down the hallway.

 

Antonia waited ten agonising minutes before working up the courage to leave the laundry to find the hallway clear. Steeling herself, she snuck into the study and quietly closed the door behind her.

  

Sat at the desk, she opened Google and typed _Joseph Steve Rogers death 1996._ The search yielded little beyond a few articles detailing the car crash that took his life.

 

“What would Nancy Drew do?” Antonia asked herself aloud looking around the room. Struck with an idea from a faded memory, she opens _Finder_ and searches _Joseph Rogers_. “Holy shit.” Browsing through the images she holds back a cry.

  

Images of Steve as a young man walking through Brooklyn with Bucky. Images of Joseph Rogers meeting with men in suits in a park. Images of Joseph Rogers dead in a car, riddled with bullet holes. Photos of Bucky and Antonia walking hand in hand, having drinks with Steve at the tavern. Thousands of photos of Steve and his family over the years.

  

“Antonia.” Panicked, closes all the photos and stands up, Steve standing in the doorway shooting daggers at her. “What in the hell are you doing?”

 

“I’m sorry, but Steve…”

 

He didn’t let her finish. His hand firmly clasped on her arm, he pulled her out of the room snarling at her to shut her mouth as he pulled her into living room, in view of everyone on the balcony. 

 

“We are leaving. Bucky, now,” Steve growled, his eyes trained on Bucky who stood on the balcony. “Thank you for your hospitality Tony, but we must be going.”

  

Antonia knew better than to protest further. Steve was livid; he’d been a boiling pot threatening to overflow all night.  She also needed to digest the images. Her father had been collecting collateral about the Rogers family for decades. But why keep Joseph’s death photos? And then it clicked.

  

She could see Steve physically shake with anger as she was pushed onto the couch and watched him pace the living room.

 

“Steve…”

  

“You do not speak,” he cut her off, his voice cutting through her like a knife. “You have done more than enough damage for one night.”

  

Antonia looked up at Bucky, pleading silently, but was only met with disappointment. She sighed and looked down at the ground, waiting for Steve to unleash on her.

  

“What the hell were you thinking breaking into his office? Do you know what he would have done if he found you?” Antonia went to respond but silenced herself when she saw the vitriol in Steve’s eyes. “Have you not had your fill in making an embarrassment of me?”

  

Antonia flinched as Steve moved to take his belt off. “Tony is going to kill you.”

 

“Antonia,” Steve said undoing his buckle, “please don’t make a show of this.”

 

“I heard him on the phone in the study. I think he was talking to Alexander Pierce.” Steve stilled at her confession, his hands holding his belt firmly. “He said that you were going to meet the same end as your father once I’m pregnant.” Steve looked to Bucky whose dark eyes were on fire. “That’s why I was on the computer.”

  

Steve scoffed moving over to the fireplace and punching the marble. “I need you to tell me everything you know.”

  

“A couple of months before we got engaged I’d had a pretty bad session with Mistress Hela.” She shuddered at the memory of the lashings against her thighs. “My father was furious and drunk, as he is a lot. Except that night, he was unravelled. I’ve never seen him like that. He kept me tied up to a chair the whole night trying to scare me with stories…” Antonia clasped her hands together. “He showed me photos… of the men he’d had killed for wronging him. And he said that if I did not cooperate I would end up in one of his photos.” Her eyes met Steve’s. “There were photos of your dad’s crash on there Steve. There are decades of photos of you and Bucky and your family.”

 

Steve snarled and kicked over a nearby pot plant, sending the plant flying. “Tony killed my father? Well, perhaps it is time Tony learn a lesson in retribution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :) I really hope you are still enjoying it! I love reading your comments!


	11. Give An Inch, Take Three Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's gives a little under the illusion of freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no warnings for this chapter except - this story is a little bit of a slowburn. Things are slowly moving ahead and there will be some MAJOR drama in the next chapter - I promise.

_Another evening, another party as the soon-to-be Mrs Steve Rogers. Antonia stuck to the patio like a lifeline as the party raged on inside the old Irish tavern. Out here she was free from the scrutinizing glare of Mistress Hela, Steve and her father. Free from the raging glare of Bucky Barnes._

_School was soon to resume, her final year of school. Her last year of freedom before she would become engaged to Brooklyn’s fiercest borough head. Two years before she would be forced to marry him._

_The sunflower in her hand wilted sadly and she couldn’t help but draw similarities to her own predicament. Perhaps that was the irony behind Steve giving her the flower as she entered his establishment that evening. A poignant reminder that she was a picked flower that would wilt and die at his hands._

_Inside, she could see her father holding court, his loyal audience laughing on command at his pathetic jokes. He was maddening. He was a fraud. He didn’t love her._

_Antonia gasped as she watched the snapped sunflower drop to the ground, her hands shaking._

_“Well, you could have just said that you don’t like sunflowers.” Antonia startled and jumped down from the stonewall, desperately trying to dampen down her desire to flee._

_“I’m sorry Steve, it was an accident.”_

_He smirked incredulously as he approached her, his tall strong form towering over her. “Mistress Hela tells me your training is going well. But you still have a lot to learn.” Antonia immediately flinches, her knuckles still welted from her punishment that morning. “I hope you understand how important this training is Antonia.” His words bit at her, his condescending tone grating._

_“I understand, Steve,” Antonia retorted, equally as condescending with an enjoyable measure of petulance._

_The moment died as Steve chuckled darkly and caged her in against the wall. “Oh Antonia, I’m disappointed to see your training isn’t going so well. Perhaps I should have a discussion with Mistress Hela about your poor behaviour.”_

_Antonia begged him not to as he stormed off into the tavern, locking her outside on the patio. There was no way out of here; she was trapped. Her heart all but stopped and her stomach dropped as Steve stalked back onto the patio, Mistress Hela and Bucky following closely behind. They were like a pack of panthers ready to strike._

_It was that very night Antonia made a vow to flee and never return to New York._

 

****

 

Antonia awoke the next morning alone and her body aching in the most delicious way. Sitting up, she gingerly examined the bruises on her wrists from the cuffs Steve had forced her to wear. Bucky had left a scattering of love bites on her collarbone and breasts, his usual calling card. 

 

Showered and dressed in a simple denim dress and sandals, she made her way to the kitchen, surprised to see both Bucky and Steve sitting at the table, breakfast already set out.

 

Antonia panicked, realising the late hour. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise the time.”

 

“Relax doll,” Steve cooed, holding out his hand to her. Antonia sat on his lap obediently. “You had such a strenuous night,” he mocked darkly, “Bucky and I thought it best to let you sleep in.” His hands caressed her thighs before settling on her wrists, examining the already dark welts. “Let’s eat.”

 

Antonia made to move from Steve’s lap, but his grip was steadfast. He held a strawberry to her mouth and she willingly took a bite, his hand clasping her waist.

 

“Such a sweet thing,” he crooned against her hair. “You’re turning into the perfect little doll. Isn’t she my love?”

 

“A real peach,” Bucky said in a tone so dark it sent sparks straight to her core.

 

She wanted to please them, make them proud of her. She placed a chaste kiss on Steve’s lip, her arms wrapped around his neck, her conscience screaming at her to control her desires.

 

Steve chuckled and coaxed another strawberry into her mouth. “Bucky has some business to attend to in Manhattan this afternoon and I have meetings all day.” He ran his fingers through her hair, a warm smile on his face. “Would you like to spend some time at the Museum while Bucky is busy?”

 

Antonia did not believe for a second she was entirely on her own as she roamed the Milstein Family Hall of Ocean Life. She’d spent two hours slowly roaming the different exhibitions of the museum, aware of her ever-present shadow. She couldn’t be sure who Steve had following her, but she was certain it was either Bucky or Clint.

 

Whoever it was, she wouldn’t allow them to ruin the peace she felt as she walked through the museum on her own. Her mind was clear and her heart steady away from the overpowering presence of Steve and Bucky. She felt lighter than she had in the few months following the miscarriage.

 

Antonia caught a glimpse of her shadow as she left the grand hall and made her way towards the Hall of North American Forests. She sighed bitterly as they made eye contact.

 

“Hey Bucky,” she said sadly. “You didn’t have a meeting, did you?”

 

“Sorry doll,” he said stalking her slowly. “Steve just wanted to make sure you could be trusted.”

 

Antonia wrapped her arms around herself and sniffled. “I get it.” And she did, but she could not deny the fact that it stung. “Do we have to go home now?”

 

Bucky couldn’t deny the twinge of guilt that pulled at him. Fuck he was going soft on her. “How about we take a walk around the park? Steve wants us to meet him for dinner later.”

 

Antonia placed her hand in his outstretched one and allowed him to entwine his fingers with hers and escort her out of the museum and into Central Park.

 

“I used to love coming here with Steve,” Bucky quietly mused as they explored The Ramble, the hearty woodlands hidden away in Central Park. “We used to come here after school sometimes, hide away from his dad, get ice cream and just walk until it got dark and we had to go home. Of course, his ma would go off when we would get home because we were usually covered in mud and leaves. Better his ma than his dad.”

 

Antonia froze. She had met Steve’s father once. He had been imposing and had turned her blood cold in their short interaction. Her imagination ran wild at the thought of him raising a hand to Steve as a child.

 

 “That’s why Steve is sometimes a little cold,” Bucky continued. “His dad never showed him much affection and expected a lot from him from a young age.”

 

“When did you and Steve first get together?” Antonia tread lightly, yearning to learn more about the men running her life.

 

“We were fifteen. His father never found out we were together thank goodness,” he said, his voice laced with a timbre of sadness.

 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Bucky.” Antonia longed to hold him close, comfort him, and thank him for being vulnerable, despite the small voice in her head reminding her that he was her enemy. But was he? “Wanda and I used to escape to Brooklyn you know, when we were kids. There was this kosher bakery we used to go to on Saturdays. At Rosh Hashanah we used to stuff ourselves silly with Lekach, this traditional honey cake. We’d just wander for hours, talk about everything and nothing until our throats hurt.”

 

Bucky wrapped his arm around her as they continued further into The Ramble.

 

“I always felt a strong connection to Brooklyn,” she said quietly, finding comfort in Bucky’s hold. How was it so easy to be open and vulnerable with him? “It always felt more like home than Manhattan.”

 

“Because you, Antonia Maria Rogers are not your father’s daughter. You have never been like him and you will never be.” They came upon a small, deserted clearing where they sat down. He held her hands steadfast, his thumb caressing her soft skin. “I know that in the beginning things were a little rough. But, you are becoming an important part of our family. I want you to know that I’m grateful to have you with us.”

 

Antonia held back tears as Bucky claimed her lips with his own. Now more than ever she was confused. Was Bucky just toying with her emotions or was he sincerely opening up to her? She wanted to punish herself, atone for falling under his spell so easily.

 

A startled squeak rang through the clearing as Bucky pulled her into his lap, his tongue savouring the pulse point on her neck, his fingers working their way up her thighs. Antonia wantonly bucked against him, threading her hands through his long, thick, dark hair. Antonia relished under his soft caresses and dominating kisses. Their mouths explored each other’s as his hands roamed her petite form.

 

Bucky ran his thumb over her lips, his eyes scrutinizing hers. “I can’t remember the last time I made out with someone in the park,” he chuckled.

 

“Senior year,” Antonia said with a sly smile, her hand resting against his chest. “Darcy Lewis behind the auditorium. Mr Laufeyson gave me detention for two whole weeks. I’d never had detention before,” she blushed. “It was a particularly low period in my life.”

 

Bucky laughed before kissing her softly. “I’m beginning to think you weren’t such a good girl after all,” his fingers delving into her panties to find her soaking wet. “I think you’re a bad girl under the guise of an innocent little bird.” The licentious moan that escaped her mouth as his fingers fucked her slowly should have sent her straight to hell. “Not so loud my little doll, unless of course you want someone to hear. You are quite keen on an audience.”

 

Antonia caved, pushing aside her abating inhibitions and clumsily working his belt and pants undone before pulling out his rock hard cock and wrapping her hands around him.

 

The thrill of being caught mixed with the filthy words Bucky whispered in her ear as she worked her hand over his cock was intoxicating. Bucky drove her into her peak quickly, her soft moans muffled by his searing kiss. Before he could praise her, his cock was deep in her mouth and he was coming down her throat.

 

They fell back onto the grass, panting as they regained their senses.

 

 “Ten years ago.”

 

Antonia turned her face to look at Bucky who absently watched the sky above them. “Sorry?”

 

“The last time I made out with someone. Ten years ago, in this very spot with Steve. You’d been gone two months and his father had just died. We were finally free of him.”

 

Antonia was at a loss for words. She rolled into his side, her fingers wiping the tears rolling down Bucky’s cheeks. Before she could say anything Bucky pulled his vibrating phone out of his pants and was answering the call, walking away with his back to her.

 

“Hey baby,” he cooed down the phone, resting against his ear as he did up his pants and buckle. “Sure, we can meet you there. See you soon.”

 

Antonia watched as he steeled himself, wiping his face clear, before turning to face her, his face void of any affection. “Steve is expecting us. We should go.”

 

“Bucky…”

 

“Antonia,” he said with little emotion, “do as you are told.”

 

The atmosphere in the car was tense as they made their way back into the Brooklyn and to O’Reilly’s Pub, an old Irish Tavern the Rogers family had originally owned when they first settled in Brooklyn.

 

Antonia found herself sat opposite a loved-up Steve and Bucky at dinner. They joked and teased each other as she picked at her food. Her mind reeled over Bucky’s revelation about Steve’s father and his sudden coldness.

 

Joseph Rogers had had a wicked reputation within the boroughs. Tony Stark for one had feared and respected him growing up. Antonia of course had never been meant to be privy to this; she had been made aware that she should have kept her distance from the senior Rogers’ family member. It was only through warnings from her uncle that she was aware of the rumours.

 

Her heart ached at the notion of Bucky and Steve keeping their relationship a secret from his abusive father. Her mind swirled with the idea that his father abused Steve and how he would have been pushed into being the leader he was.

 

Antonia, with her family history, knew she was in no place to judge Steve for his temperament. In the end, weren’t they all just the products of their parents? Well, in the boroughs this was most definitely the case.

 

And what of Bucky? Surely his behaviour was the consequence of a life lived in the Fuil Deartháir.

 

Glumly, she ran her fingers over the bruising on her wrists, her food long forgotten.

 

“Antonia,” Steve growled. “It is impolite to daydream at the table.” Her reverie was shattered and her attention pulled to the pair sitting opposite her. She mumbled an apology and returned her attention to the salad sat in front of her. “Did you have a nice day?”

 

“Yes thank you,” her voice barely audible. “Thank you for letting me go to the museum by myself.”

 

 

“You don’t look like someone who is grateful.”

 

Antonia wanted to scoff. Perhaps Steve placed the blame on her as a coping mechanism for the loss of control he was facing with Tony. “I’m sorry. My mind is elsewhere.”

 

“Clearly,” he scoffed throwing his napkin on the table in frustration. “Perhaps you should share what has got your heads high up in the clouds.”

 

Antonia wanted to honour Bucky’s trust but her mind battled with betraying Steve’s trust.

 

“I told Antonia the truth about your father.”

 

Antonia held her breath, waiting for Steve to leash into a fury. But the rage, wrath, umbrage never came. She peeked to see Bucky embrace Steve, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She needed little encouragement to crawl into his lap, his arms possessively holding her close.

 

“You deserved better than that,” she whispered.

 

 

 

_**Rosh Hashanah – Jewish New Year** _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments - I love them. Please keep them coming. Pretty please. The pretty please is a chocolate cupcake with buttercream and sprinkes on top.


	12. The Truth Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dramatic revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic description of death

Steve leant against the doorway watching his acquiescent wife asleep against his love’s chest. They looked so sweet, so content, both innocent. Seeing them together helped placate the raging fury he’d been trying to contain throughout the night. They helped ground him much more than the scotch in his hand had been able to.

 

The vibrating phone in his pocket drew him away from the bedroom and down to his study, though he’d rather be in bed. “Talk to me Sam.”

 

“It was a major pain in the ass trying to get the files, it seems like Stark’s fingers are jamming that pot shut. I had to pull some major strings to even get a sniff. The car was clean. No fingerprints, no DNA. Stark’s security is top-notch, we can’t crack into his system,” Sam Wilson drawled down the phone. “I’m going to need a max hour access to the apartment with a full, discrete team.”

 

“I can make that happen. Thanks Sam.” Steve hung up and drained the last of the scotch in his glass.

 

“I’m sorry.” He turned to see Antonia enter the study in his shirt and her black lace panties just visible.

 

“Why are you apologising?” Steve asked teasingly. “What have you done this time?”

 

She scoffed and placed her hands on his chest. “Nothing, I promise. It’s just…” she took a deep breath, “I’m sorry Tony is the world’s biggest sociopath. I’m sorry we were born into this world. That you’ve been forced to be with me. That we both had shitty fathers.” Steve smiled sadly in response, his hands kneading her hair. “I’m sorry for not having the courage to be as strong as you need me to be.”

 

Antonia initiated the kiss, taking Steve by surprise. Her hands roamed his chest and neck, relishing in the heat radiating off his skin. He nipped at her lips as he picked her up and set her down on the desk. His hands parted her legs, tearing the delicate lace off of her; they lie ruined on the ground, the shirt following suit.

 

Her hands fought with the buttons on his jeans, Steve intervened and tugged his pants down before vigorously entering her. Their cries echoed through the room as Steve fucked her on the desk roughly.

 

Antonia couldn’t help the wanton gasp that escapes from her lips as he latched his lips on to her neck before running his tongue along her jugular. He smirked as her fingers dug into his shoulders.

 

She knew he was close by the staccato in his gasps. Before he could come she pushed him away and knelt before him, taking him in her mouth. He came down her throat before he could protest.

 

Steve chuckled, pulling her up into a salacious kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. “You are quite the needy little thing when you want to be.”

 

Antonia blushed, her head against his chest, the leisurely beating of his heart comforting. The manila folder haphazardly tossed onto the mountain of paperwork caught her eye, the familiar brown hair in the photo just peeking out.

 

Later, as they lay in bed, Steve lightly snoring, holding Bucky close, Antonia’s mind drifted to the manila folder. She knew the photos had to be of Wanda. Her eyes roamed Steve’s muscular back.

 

Glancing at the clock, she knew she had to be quick. Slowly getting out of the bed, so not to disturb either of her companions, she slipped on her dressing gown and made her way out of the room. She glanced at the bed once more, both Steve and Bucky sleeping soundly.

 

The brownstone was eerily quiet that time of morning, the street outside void of traffic and human life. She was hyperaware of every sound she made, including her measured breath and heart thumping against her chest. The door to the study was ajar, and she gently pressed her weight against it, praying that the slight squeak in the hinges would be silent. And it was.

 

Steve’s desk was disarray with papers. It was an alarming contradiction to his usual controlling demeanour. He’d been on edge, quick to temper since the night of Tony’s dinner. Even Bucky had been on the receiving end of one of his outbursts in front of Antonia.

 

Her hand trembled as she grasped the front of the folder and pulled it open. Her hands shot over her mouth and she bit back the urge to scream or be sick.

 

Wanda and Pietro, side by side on a dirty, stained bed, their throats slit ear to ear, their hands sawn off and eyes removed. A Fuil Deartháir killing. The photos cascaded down onto the ground as tears blurred her vision and her hands trembled. She sank down to her knees and sobbed.

 

The sounds of footsteps echoed from up above. Panic setting in, she grasped at the photos and forced them back into the folder and ran from the study. Antonia washed her face and forced deep breaths as she hunched over the kitchen sink. The footsteps slowly descended down the stairs and she forced herself into action.

 

She pulled the bread flour and instant yeast from the cupboard and ran the water from the tap tepid. Whoever is coming down was sleepy; they were slow and languid in their stride, a yawn echoed through the hallway.

 

Antonia dumped the sachet into the measured water and allowed it to sit.

 

“What’s wrong?” She spun around to see Bucky enter the kitchen, shirtless and rubbing his eyes. “Toni, have you been crying?”

 

The images of Wanda and Pietro flicker before her and she choked back a sob. She hated Bucky. She wanted nothing more than to grab the kitchen knife, not two feet away from her, and shove it into his gut.

 

They had played her for a fool, and she had allowed them to. They had never had the intention of letting her see her friend again. But why kill them now?

 

“Toni?” He stood before her, his face wrought with concern and his fingers running through her hair.

 

“I’m fine,” she said dismissively, moving back to the yeast mix, her body screaming for space. “Just a bad dream.”

 

His arms instinctively wrapped around her chest and he presses his lips to her neck, dismissing the feeling of her body freezing in his embrace. “I wish you would open up to me.”

 

Antonia bit back the urge to chuckle incredulously. She had done nothing but open up to them, give all of herself to them. They were liars. “Bucky, it’s fine really, I promise. It was a bad dream. Just go back to bed.”

 

The look of dejection read like a book on his face and he sulked back upstairs leaving Antonia standing in the kitchen on her own. By the time the bread is cooked and resting on the table Steve entered the kitchen, Bucky following closely behind.

 

The tension was palpable as they ate in silence, Bucky in a sulk and Steve reading a pile of documents, occasionally glancing over at Antonia with a look of disapproval. Clearly Bucky had been in his ear that morning. Antonia had to appease him and fix the situation. With the Fourth weekend so close she could not afford to draw any more attention to herself or get on Steve’s bad side.

 

Swallowing her pride, she stood up and made her way over to Bucky, climbing into his lap. Steve watched on with interest.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her head against his chest and her hand wrapped around his waist. “I didn’t want to worry you.” Bucky said nothing; he’s a tough cookie. “I’m afraid Tony is going to get his way.” Steve furrowed his forehead, chagrined at her inability to trust him. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re a good leader Steve, because you are a great leader. But Tony is unhinged. He’s unpredictable and he has so many people in his back pocket.”

 

Steve slammed the stack of papers onto the table. “Antonia, you need to trust me. There are plays already in motion and we are moving forward.”

 

“I trust you. It’s Tony I don’t trust.” Antonia thought back to the photos. “Am I going to be allowed to see Wanda? Please, I would feel so much better if I could speak with her. I miss her so much.” She felt Bucky’s heart race, and he moved to look at Steve, sharing a knowing look.

 

“Soon, I promise. Once we have Tony dealt with. I just need you to be patient.” Antonia bit down the urge to throw his coffee in his face.

 

Bucky wrapped his arms around her petite form and hummed against her head. “Would you like to take a trip to the zoo today? We can get out of the house for a few hours.”

 

“I will join you,” Steve said warmly. “It will be nice to have a little break and spend some time with my loves.”

 

Since coming back to New York, Antonia has spent little time in public with Steve and Bucky as a trio. It was an odd feeling to be walking around Prospect Park Zoo with two killers, passers-by cowering with fear or nodding their head in respect to their leader.

 

It was a wave of power that made Antonia’s skin crawl, as it has always done. Her father received the same treatment as he strolled around the Manhattan streets he owned.

 

Bucky and Steve stood ten feet away from her, deep in conversation, as she watched the piglets suckle from their mother, oblivious to the children cooing and hollering around them.

 

A child almost collided with her, his mother instantly apologising and berating the young boy. Antonia smiled sadly, watching the mother kneel down to the child, who pouted.

 

“It will happen for us sweetheart,” Bucky cooed in her ear, his arm slipping around her waist as Steve pressed his lips against her forehead. Her blood ran cold at the invasion of her space.

 

Steve took a phone call as they made their way out of the park. Whatever was said sent him spiralling into a bitter mood. He instructed Bucky to take Antonia home as he left for Red Hook.

 

Bucky insisted they sit in the small backyard, sharing a bottle of wine before dinner. Antonia watched the small fire pit flicker, aware that Bucky was watching her intently. Her mind reeled over the photos. When had they killed them? Why? Could she have done something? Anything?

 

“ _Mo éan beag_ , you are quiet again.” His voice shook her from her reverie and she looked up at him.

 

“I’m sorry, my mind is all over the place.”

 

His soft grey blue eyes examine her closely. “I get that you’re scared, you know your father better than anyone. But, right now Steve needs you to be strong.”

 

Ah yes, they were back to the condescending lessons on roles. “I will,” she said plastering a smile on her face. “Would it be alright if I called Pepper? I just want to talk to her about the Fourth weekend.”

 

“Not until Steve is home and says it’s okay.”

 

Antonia knew for a fact that Steve would never let her talk to Pepper. Bucky had been her only chance, but clearly she was being kept on a short leash. She looked at the just visible kitchen clock and spied Bucky’s phone on the kitchen bench.

 

“I understand,” she said and drained the last of her wine. “How about you go take a shower and I can see what there is for dinner?”

 

His smirk was impish. “You could join me.”

 

Antonia made her way over to him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “How about I find something for dinner and then I join you in the bath?”

 

Her smile faded after he shot up from the chair and hurried upstairs. She would not have much time. Antonia quickly ran into the kitchen and upon hearing the sound of running water above she quickly unlocked Bucky’s phone. Of course his passcode was Steve’s birthday.

 

“Bucky?” Pepper sounded confused.

 

“Pepper, Wanda is dead. It was Steve.” Antonia swallowed the tears and listened to Pepper sigh on the other end of the line.

 

“I’m so sorry, Antonia. We are going to get out of here, I swear.”

 

“I know, Pep, I love you.” Antonia hung up just as the front door opened. The phone call is deleted from the history log and she put the phone back before ducking her head into the fridge to feign preparing dinner.

 

“Where’s Bucky?”

 

A bitter sigh escaped her lips as she looked to Steve in the doorway. “He’s in the bath.” She watched him turn around and make his way up the stairs without another word for her.

 

“Get your ass up here Antonia,” Bucky’s voice carried down the stairs.

 

Her head rested against the now closed fridge door, beside the Polaroid of Steve and Bucky lips locked and a birthday cake before them lit with candles. “It’s just a few more days,” she promised herself, her eyes on the photo, beautiful and serene with its domesticity. She bit back the bitterness. “You have to do this. For Wanda and for Pepper.”

 

The symphony of moans and filthy words were hard to ignore as she entered the bedroom. They are a beautiful sight, Bucky’s back pressed against Steve’s chest as they rise and fall like a perfectly rehearsed dance. One of Steve’s arms is wrapped around Bucky’s chest whilst the other rests on his leg.

 

Her heart numb, she strolled into the bathroom, Steve watching her. “Come make Buck feel good.” Masquerading obedience, Antonia approached Bucky and took his rigid thick cock in her hand. Bucky pulled her flush against his wet chest, his whimpers ringing through her ears.

 

Antonia focused her gaze on the open window, her hand working over Bucky’s slick cock, pre-cum flowing freely from his tender head. His fingers dig painfully into her arm as he shoots cum over her dress.

 

He tears at the buttons on her shirtdress, before latching his mouth onto her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck for support as his hands delved into her panties.

 

Her eyes momentarily meet Steve’s dark blue eyes, a diabolical smirk gracing his lips.

 

 

_Mo éan beag– my little bird_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for all the support and kind comments. I can't get over how kind everyone is and you're making me mushy.


	13. Deliver the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A presentation of punishment and Lake Placid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right... firstly I'm sorry this took so long. I had the flu and did not leave my bed for like four days. 
> 
> Secondly, this was fucking hard to write. I had a whole thing planned and that went to hell in a shit basket. So, I'm like 99% anxious ball posting this.
> 
> This is long. So you might need a drink and a snack.
> 
> So here we are... I'm gonna go hide in some bushes for a while. 
> 
> Thank you for your kind words and kudos. They're like sweet, delicious oxygen.

_Antonia knelt on the ice-cold concrete ground, her body starting to sway with exhaustion. Her skin was tightly pebbled and painful against the freezing air, clad only in her pathetically plain beige bra and boy shorts._

_She dared not make eye contact with the crowd circled around her, leaders of the New York boroughs, Natasha skulking in the dark corner. Her eyes were trained on the minute dot of paint on the ground half a foot away from her. A faint wave of adrenaline passed through as the familiar echoing of heels behind her began its aria._

_She’d lost track of how long she had been forced to kneel on the rock hard warehouse floor, but if she could hazard a guess she would say she had broken her record from last month._

_Mistress Hela paced around her. Antonia could feel her penetrating gaze studying her. “You have come a long way pet,” Mistress Hela’s velvety breaks the silence, her trusty cane dragging on the concrete floor behind her. “Mr Rogers, you must be pleased.”_

_Antonia doesn’t look but she could feel Steve’s eyes firmly on her. She is beyond the point of crying, though the pain shoots up through her legs and into her body. The posture she has been forced to hold had started to take its toll and she swayed again._

_The spot of paint became two as she slouched forward. The crack on her back echoed along with her cry._

_“Posture is key to being a good wife,” Mistress Hela drawls, the cane scraping along Antonia’s cheek. “Be a good girl and stand.”_

_Antonia slowly stood, the pain from her stiff muscles screaming at her. A wave of nausea hits and she let out a faint breath._

_“Tell me, Antonia, what is the purpose of these showings?”_

_“To learn control. To showcase the hard work you have invested in teaching me to be a good and competent wife,” Antonia said with as little emotion as she could, her eyes trained straight ahead to the wall, in between Steve and Bucky._

_“And do you think you are ready to be a good and competent wife?” Mistress Hela said standing behind Antonia._

_“No ma’am.”_

_“And why not?”_

_The tears formed in her eyes, her hands balling into fists, her body tensing. “Because I am weak and I have failed you.”_

_“And how, dear Antonia, have you failed me?” Lip quivering, Antonia bowed her head and mumbled. “Louder!”_

_“I allowed another man to put his hand on me.”_

_“And why, Antonia, would you allow man, who is not promised to you, to touch you?”_

_Allowing Eric Killmonger to brush the hair from her face had been a moment of weakness whilst Steve watched on. A weak infinitesimal moment in which she felt something other than fear. Antonia defiantly raised her head and looked into Steve’s eyes. “I just wanted a moment of happiness.”_

_////_

 

Holiday weekend traffic and an already stewing Steve made for a long, arduous and tense drive from Brooklyn to Lake Placid. He hadn’t returned home until well into the early morning, slamming the front door shut behind him, waking up both Bucky and Antonia. He’d spent a good part of the morning snapping at anyone who dared speak to him.

 

Antonia occupied the car ride counting down the individual miles until they arrived at the cabin. Her eyes frequently flickered over the bruise on her wrist from Steve pulling her into the shower that morning.

 

The guest cabin was not at all what she remembered. Tony had clearly renovated with no expense spared. It was uncanny walking into the cabin she had lived in each summer during her youth and it was nothing like she remembered. She robotically made her way through the open living and kitchen onto the back deck. The view didn’t fail to tug at her heart.

 

Antonia moved across the deck and down to the water. She choked back the tears as memories flooded fast and furiously. Her mother teaching her to swim in the lake. Building sand castles with Wanda. Watching the holiday fireworks, wrapped under blankets and full of hot dogs.

 

Good memories. She only had good memories of the lake, but now, what had once been paradise would be tainted. Steve and Bucky were here now, in her safe place and the world had been turned upside down.

 

“It’s pretty special.” Antonia flinched as Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin rested on her shoulder. “I can’t wait to bring the kids up here.”

 

She swallowed thickly, the bile churning in her gut. “Wanda loved it up here. It’s so weird being here with out her. I can’t remember a summer here without Wanda.” Antonia made sure to annunciate her name, digging at Bucky. She could feel him tense against her. It was hard to deny she found it satisfying.

 

He cleared his throat and moved away. “Well, we will just make some new memories, won’t we? Come on, we should unpack and clean up before dinner.”

 

Antonia obediently followed Bucky into the cabin, Steve pacing in the kitchen, his phone attached to his ear. They were due to join Tony and Pepper for dinner in a few hours. Bucky helped Antonia unpack their bags and put their clothes away.

 

Steve slammed the bedroom door shut as they were dressing for dinner. “Wear the red dress,” he instructed Antonia, pressing his lips to her neck. “And ditch the panties.” Her stomach rolled as he strutted into the bathroom, shucking his clothes off as he moved. The sound of the shower brought back the breath she’d been holding.

 

Bucky zipped her into the sinfully short lace dress, a smirk on his lips as he held out his hand. Antonia sighed bitterly and pulled down her underwear before handing them to Bucky.

 

He chuckled at her. “Don’t worry princess, I will protect your modesty,” before brushing his fingers against her exposed pussy.

 

She’s not sure at what point during dinner things took a turn for the worst, but Antonia knew that the gears were shifting and everything was about to change.

 

Steve hadn’t allowed her a moment’s reprieve alone with Pepper, sticking by her side the entire night. She’d begged and pleaded before they left but it fell on deaf ears. Perhaps she should have taken that as a warning. Or the dark marks Pepper had tried to conceal on her neck.

 

Tony Stark was losing control; he had spent a good part of that month on a drunken rampage “Well if it isn’t my beautiful daughter, her husband and their boy toy,” he crooned as they entered the main cabin. “Don’t you look a treat tonight; married life looks good on you.”

 

Steve possessively tightened his grip on her waist as they followed Tony out onto the back deck that now looked like it had been ripped from a Pinterest search. Her father had created the perfect picture completely rendering any sense of home false.

 

Antonia instantly noted the dark marks on Pepper’s neck, covered with makeup, and her stomach coiled angrily. Pepper’s sad eyes met hers and she had to bite down the bile boiling in her gut and fight the urge to introduce her father’s worn face to her fist.

 

Bucky noticed her eyes on the bruises. “Antonia, don’t look darling, it’s none of our business,” he warned when Tony had sauntered over to the bar with Steve.

 

“Like hell it’s not my business,” she snapped, her sharp blue eyes meeting his grey ones. “She’s my stepmother and nobody deserves to be treated like that.”

 

“Antonia…”  
  
“No Bucky. You fight for the people you love. I would kill Steve if he laid a hand on you.”

 

Bucky stilled at her confession and the guilt that swept through her features. “You need to calm down before I put you over my knee. You can’t say things like that,” his hand firmly resting on her cheek, his stormy eyes searching hers. “Besides, looking at the limp your dad has going on, I think Pepper got him good in return.”

 

Antonia went to approach her stepmother only to be blocked by Steve, a dark smirk on his lips, his hand extended out to her. She obediently took his hand and allowed him to escort her to the immaculately staged table.

 

She struggled to follow the conversation, her entrée untouched, as her eyes drifted to her stepmother who apologetically smiled in return. Anger gnawed at her core. Why should Pepper apologise?

 

The anger quickly turned to fear as she felt Steve’s hand roam her thigh. “You need to eat something, sweetheart.” She stabbed a piece of grilled peach with her fork, forced it into her mouth and slowly chewed. “Thank you. You’ll need your energy for what I have planned later.”

 

“I hope that’s not morning sickness putting you off your food,” Tony mocked draining the last of the scotch in his glass, his eyes glistening as his daughter’s eyes watered a little.

 

“I’m fine,” Antonia snapped and placed her fork onto her plate, Steve’s hand gripping her thigh. “I’m just not a big fan of rocket.”

 

Tony chuckled darkly taking a refreshed glass from the waiter; only Tony Stark would employ staff for a summer cabin. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with my handy work on Pepper?” Antonia felt the air escape her lungs as her eyes met Pepper’s. “You see, Pepper here, thought she could backchat me. She needed to be reminded who is in the charge here. You understand, don’t you Steve?”

 

“You think you’re so fucking entitled,” Antonia snarled before Steve could answer.

 

“Antonia,” Steve warned, his hand enclosing around the back of her neck.

 

But Antonia was seeing red. “You think everything is so frightened of you and will bend at your will. You’re not God.”

 

“Please stop Antonia,” Pepper begged, her eyes crystalized and sharp.

 

“Tony,” Steve said, standing up, his hand now firmly gripping Antonia’s forearm, “I apologise profusely. Antonia is clearly…”

 

“Get upstairs Pepper, dinner is over,” Tony snarled standing up from his chair. Antonia watched Pepper slowly get up from the table and move indoors, tears streaking her cheeks. “You need to reign your little bitch in, Rogers. Might I suggest a visit with Mistress Hela?”

 

“Antonia, apologise right now.”

 

And she did, like the trained wife she was supposed to be, all the while guilt built up inside of her because she knew she would be the reason that Pepper would be on the receiving end of Tony’s anger.

 

The fury in Steve’s face was unapologetic as he all but dragged her back to the guest cabin, Bucky following closely behind. His hand didn’t leave her forearm until he pulled her to stop in the middle of the sitting area.

 

He pulled her to face him, his face twitching with rage. “You are lucky that Tony was already drunk at dinner. He could have killed you, Antonia. He had every right to put a gun to your temple and pull the trigger because of your fucking mouth.”

 

“What, just like you killed Wanda and Pietro?”

 

Steve’s movements went still, and Antonia wanted to crawl into a hole and die as his eyes met hers. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Bucky watch Steve closely. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

 

“I saw the photos Steve.” And although her heart was jackhammering so hard against her chest she could pass out, she knew that if tonight was going to be her last on earth she had a few home truths to deliver. One final atonement before she was gone. “I honestly thought you loved me. That both of you loved me. I am such an idiot.”

 

“Antonia, we love you…” Bucky’s voice wavered with emotion but she held up her hand to stop him from approaching her.

 

“Stop. I’m not falling for your bullshit anymore. If you honestly and truly loved me Wanda would not be dead. You would not have stopped me from trying to protect Pepper.” Steve and Bucky shared a look that she couldn’t read but at that moment she didn’t care. She was a train barrelling down the tracks with no way of stopping. “You are just like my father. You take whatever you want and you don’t give a shit who gets hurt. So just do us all a favour and kill me now or I will walk out of here.”

 

Steve stood slack-jawed, his eyes bristled with tears as she stood before him, her arms spread out ready to die, her chest heaving. He looked to Bucky who couldn’t take his eyes off Antonia.

 

He slowly approached her, his hands up in the air until he stood before her. “Antonia, we did not kill Wanda and Pietro.”

 

Her arms collapsed to either side of her body as the earth metaphorically collapsed beneath her and the oxygen from her lungs dissipated. “Don’t lie to me.”

 

“The photos were sent to us by an insider from the FBI. They found her a month ago.”

 

“Bullshit…” her voice weakened as the tears fell. “That was a Fuil Deartháir killing. I know because Mistress Hela took great delight in showing me exactly what happens. First, you like to remove their hands while they are alive so they can suffer as punishment for betraying you. Then you slit their throats and let them bleed out slowly and painfully. But the pièce de résistance of a Fuil Deartháir murder, is the removal of the eyes so that when they go to meet their maker they can’t see them.”

 

Steve looked away, shame seeping through his veins. “We didn’t kill Wanda and Pietro, I swear. Tony is setting us up.”

 

Antonia was torn. Her father was more than capable of setting up Steve; he had the motive and the means. But could she trust Steve? “If you truly believe Tony killed Wanda, kill him. Tonight.”

 

“Antonia, if I were to kill Tony tonight war would break out in the boroughs,” he approached her, resting his hands on her face. “I can’t risk your safety. There is a plan in place for Tony, I promise, but it cannot happen now.”

 

“Then help me get her out of here before he kills her,” she begged, her hands clutching his shoulders. “Please. If anything happened to her I would die.”

 

Steve pulled away and backed off, stalking into the kitchen. Antonia desperately watched as he paced the kitchen, one hand on his hip, the other caressing his honey beard. Periodically he wrung his hands together or stretched the muscles in his neck.

 

A cautionary glance to Bucky, his eyes flittering over Antonia, he took his phone out of his pocket. His fingers working furiously before he pressed the phone to his ear. “Wilson. I need you to meet me in Albany tonight. No I know, trust me. Alright.” He hung up the phone and slowly made his way over to Antonia. “We need to act quick, but I need you to trust me.”

 

Antonia looked to Bucky who offered an encouraging smile. She looked to Steve and nodded silently.

 

“Bucky, I need you to make sure Tony is otherwise engaged. Antonia, get Pepper out of the house, I will have the car waiting. Sam will take her somewhere safe. I promise nothing will happen to Pepper; she will be safe.”

 

Adrenalin swelled like a tidal wave as she followed Bucky into the main cabin. It was silent with the exception of the old grandfather clock ticking time. She led him up the stairs, stepping over the creaky fifth step. They stood outside the main bedroom, the door ajar, and listened. Tony had always snored, especially when he drank heavily. The laboured snores signalled for them to enter the room.

 

Antonia stood over her father, flat on his stomach, the empty bottle of scotch hanging precariously in his hand. She imaged driving the marble statute on the bedside table through his head. She didn’t notice the statue in her hand until she felt Bucky’s warm hand wrapped around her thin wrist. The gasp that fell from her lips was barely audible, though she could hear little over the thudding of her heart in her ears.

 

Bucky carefully removed the statue from her hands and placed it back on the table before pulling her away from the bed. “Ssshhh, it’s okay,” he promised quietly, his hands on her face, pressing soft kisses against her forehead and cheeks.

 

Antonia watched on as he shook Pepper awake, warning her to stay quiet. Pepper moved once she saw Antonia backed against the window. Outside in the cool air, Steve stood by the running Range Rover as they approached.

 

Pepper and Antonia turned to each other. “What is going on, Antonia?”

 

Her stepdaughter sighed and clutched onto her cold hands, her voice wrought with battling emotions. “Steve is going to take you to meet Sam. He will take you somewhere safe before Tony completely loses it.”

 

“Antonia, I’m not leaving you behind.”

 

The pain in Pepper’s voice broke her heart but she battled on. “I will be alright, I promise. But you need to leave before he does something terrible. We know I can’t go. Steve has given his word that you will not be harmed.”

 

Pepper grasped her stepdaughter’s damp cheeks and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Antonia, you are the most selfless person I have ever met.” They hugged, the dams threatening to burst as they pulled apart and Pepper turned to Steve. “I swear to God, if you hurt a single hair on her head, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”

 

Steve nodded his head and opened the door for Pepper.

 

Bucky held Antonia tightly as they watched Steve drive away, Pepper watching with tearful eyes as she lost sight of the only ally she had had for the past fifteen years in the side mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eekkk... please feel free to leave a review or hate on me!
> 
> If you're feel like something a little lighter to read, I posted a one-shot called 'The Great Avenger Bake-Off' featuring Bucky/Reader. 
> 
> Thanks guys!


	14. Everyday A Little Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonia's game plan is set in motion.
> 
> Trigger Warning: violence

Tony sat at the mahogany desk in the desolate office, the bottle empty. The last of the vodka caressed his lips before he dropped the glass onto the desk with the force of an anvil. The dark office reeked of dust, alcohol, sweat and self-loathing.

 

He had little use for the building he owned in Hell’s Kitchen until he started to take the steps to rid the boroughs of Steve Rogers. It was an area of Manhattan once overrun with the poor and quite frankly a crowd that had little to offer the Stark business. Now, the baron Windemere Apartments housed the empire Stark had inherited in his early thirties.

 

Tony would never consider himself an emotional man. Yes, at times he was quick to anger and appreciated the beauty of drawing out the final moments of his enemy’s life. But Tony Stark did not let his emotions influence the decisions he was forced to make.

 

However, as Tony dragged the muzzle of his pistol along the worn wood, he pondered the current state of his emotions. He was verklempt. His _madre_ would have said he was mourning the loss of Pepper. And yes, in his own way he was. He had always loved Pepper, obsessed over her even. He had killed his own wife to be with her. Sure, it had taken some time for her to see things his way, but they had had a beautiful life together. They should have had many more years together.

 

His eyes were drawn to the photo of his nettlesome daughter, taken the night of her eighteenth birthday.

 

He smirked at the memory of Wanda begging him to spare her dear brother before dragooning her into watching her brother bleed out on the filthy motel bed. It was intended to serve as a warning to Steve to re-evaluate where his loyalties were drifting; a reminder of who was really in charge. To his surprise, the whole event had been cathartic, punishing the woman who had assisted his contrary daughter escape the life he had meticulously designed for her. To escape her duty to the boroughs.

 

There was no doubt in his mind that Antonia was solely responsible for Pepper’s disappearance. The little bitch had probably been planning the great escape for months. She was entirely the reason he was on the verge of a mental breakdown and she was going to pay.

 

He held the phone to his ear as the dial tone broke the silence. “Steve, we need to talk.”

 

////

 

The feeling of victory that buzzed through Antonia’s body was ephemeral.

 

They had returned to Brooklyn immediately after Tony had stormed into their cabin demanding to know where Pepper was and tore their cabin apart. An emergency meeting was held between the borough heads and all available eyes were sent out to search for her. Needless to say, after weeks of searching there was little evidence of her whereabouts and the trail had long gone cold.

 

Once again, the brownstone found itself clouded with tension and uncertainty. Antonia locked herself in her old bedroom, speaking only when spoken to. Not unexpectedly, Steve was far from happy.

 

And so, when she was summoned to the warehouse in Red Hook, Antonia conjectured that Steve would demand that she return to their bed and resume her baby-making duties.

 

Bucky led her into the makeshift office to find Steve hunched over the desk. He looked drawn and haunted. “I need you to take a seat, Antonia, I have something important to tell you,” Steve said, his voice small and taut.

 

“No.”

 

Cobalt eyes dart to hers, the dark circles under his eyes testament to how little he had slept since that weekend at Lake Placid. He clenched and unclenched his hands as he approached with more speed and bounce than he had anticipated. “Please.” But Antonia stood her ground. Steve sighed, running his hands through his tousled hair. “Tony called for a vote amongst the boroughs today. He wants you to be punished for Pepper’s disappearance. They voted in favour.”

 

Steve winced as she scoffed. “So, let me get this straight. You help me get my stepmother out of the country, you helped her get across the border, and for the sake of your image I am to be publically punished for something you had a hand in?” Taciturn, Steve nodded. “Whatever makes you happy, Steve. I just hope you’re satisfied.” The cynicism in her tone was acrid.

 

“That is enough Antonia,” Bucky spoke up, his voice level but edged with warning. “You’re angry, we get that. We’ve given you space to punish us and process what happened, but you know for the sake of the boroughs this must happen.”

 

The sound of approaching vehicles broke the strained silence that had descended upon the room.

 

“Bucky, please help Antonia get ready,” Steve said before leaving the room, depleted.

 

Bucky moved towards Antonia, only to watch her retreat to the other side of the room and start to remove her clothes in silence. She stripped to her underwear, embarrassment flushing at the thought of being so exposed in front of the borough leaders.

 

Antonia placed her forehead against the exposed brick wall, summoning up the courage to stand before the borough heads and take whatever cruel punishment Tony had in store for her. He wouldn’t kill her, of that she was sure. They were too close to the election that a war between the boroughs would spell disaster and utterly expose their world. Sacrificing herself for Steve was paramount to her game plan.

 

Her body froze as Bucky stood behind her, his hands on her hips and his lips pressing against the base of her neck and shoulders. His hands softly pulled her hair up into a bun before wrapping a hair band to secure it in place. “I’m sorry. I will make it up to you.”

 

Antonia turned to look him in the eye. During her time living in the brownstone and falling for both Steve and Bucky her behaviour and reflexes had been Pavlovian at best. But now, she had to suppress the raging anger that coursed through her veins. “Can we please just get this over and done with?”

 

It was an unseasonably and stiflingly hot autumn night. The warehouse practically steamed like a sauna as she made her way into the vast main room. All eyes fell on her as she held her head high moving to where the borough heads stood, Bucky’s hand on her back as some weak endeavour to show solidarity and compassion.

 

She stood at the center of the circle, her eyes cast to the ground.

 

“Antonia Rogers, you stand before the New York borough heads accused of aiding the escape of Pepper Stark,” T’Challa’s smooth, dark voice rang through the warehouse.  “Do you have anything to say before Tony proceeds with your punishment?”

 

A weak breath and Antonia raised her head. “I helped Pepper escape an abusive relationship with my father because she deserved better. I’m guilty and I regret nothing.”

 

The scoff that fell from Tony’s lips drew her attention. The cane in his hand dragged along the ground, the sound pricking at her skin like fine needles. Memories of Mistress Hela flashed fast and furiously.

 

“I should kill you, Antonia,” he drawled as he approached her, the cane tapping against the palm of his hand with a menacing rhythm. “Pepper was the only good thing to come into my life, and you spawn, took her away from me. You filled her head with poison. You turned her against me.”

 

“You did that all by yourself,” she bit back.

 

“Do you honestly think you have Pepper’s best intentions? Am I the one who deserted her for ten years while you went out on your little Eat, Pray, Love mission?” The cane cracked on the ground beside her. “No, Antonia, I am not. So, maybe I should kill you, however, that does not help out my pals Stevie and Buck here. They’re a little keen on you.”

 

“You promised us a show Stark, ” May Parker crooned with her standard lilt, her eyes greedily taking in Antonia’s mostly bare form. “Give the people what they want.”

 

Being punished with a cane was something Antonia would never forget. It haunted her dreams. Her back still froze when someone would place his or her hand near the delicate skin. The foreboding crack in the air before the cane meets skin. The instant the skin breaks before a flurry of strikes against open tissue. The tart aroma of copper.

 

Antonia did the best she could to dissociate from the burning pain searing her back as Tony drove the cane over her back. She clawed at the few memories she had of her mother. She pictured Wanda holding her hand as they strolled around Brooklyn, their hands full of hot chocolate and bialy. Pepper taking her to prom dress fitting.

 

The silence that followed was soul shattering. She was only aware of the heaving of her chest as she fought to breathe, too broken to move.

 

“Well, I don’t know about you guys but I feel a whole lot better,” said Tony, the cane clattering on the floor beside her face. “I guess we’re even now, Rogers.”

 

What happened next was a blur. Antonia vaguely remembered Bucky helping her stand and somehow getting into the car. She remembered the profanities falling from Bucky as he cleaned her wounds, Steve standing in the doorway watching on.  At some point, she must have blacked out.

 

When she awoke it was dawn and she was alone in her room. She tentatively dressed and made her way downstairs, Steve and Bucky still fast asleep in their bed.

 

At the bottom of the stairs, she halted, her eyes drifting to the front door. Hearing no movement upstairs, she quickly put on her running shoes, grabbed some cash from Steve’s wallet and left the brownstone. This would take but damn the consequences.

 

Antonia found herself sitting at a picnic table in Prospect Park with the pen and paper she had purchased from the closest bodega she could get to. She sat for hours writing, pouring her heart out onto what were now stained pages.

 

Despite the throbbing pain of her back and her confession heavy in her hand, she waited in the lobby, the furniture and decoration void of any warmth or personality. Men and women bustled around her, taking little notice of her as her eyes scanned for any of her father’s men.

 

“Mrs. Maria?” Antonia stood quickly and turned to see two women, clad in grey suits stand before her. “I’m Special Agent Maria Hill,” the dark beauty said, taking Antonia’s hand to shake, “and this is my partner Special Agent Carol Danvers. We’ve been asked to come down to meet with you.”

 

Antonia stole a deep breath and handed over the pile of papers. “My name is Antonia Rogers. My husband is Steve Rogers and my father is Tony Stark. I want to help you put them away for a very long time.” The two agents shared a look before motioning Antonia to follow them. “I’m sorry but I have to get back. I’ve already been gone too long. Everything you need to know is written down there,” she handed over the pile of papers. “I can meet you again, but I don’t have any way to contact you. Steve won’t allow me to have a phone.”

 

Antonia watched Maria thumb through the pages, her eyes quickly scanning through. “Mrs Rogers. are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

 

“Yes absolutely. But you should know, Sam Wilson is a mole for Steve.”

 

“We’ve had our suspicions for some time,” Carol said softly. “Give us a week to do some fact checks and we can meet you next week. Would that be alright?”  
  


Antonia thought quickly and nodded. “I can meet you at the carousel in Prospect Park around midnight next Tuesday. I can sneak out of the house.”

 

The agents bid her farewell after finalising some details for their meeting before she quickly ran to the subway, well aware that Sam would be in the building and at any moment they could cross paths.

 

Her mind raced on her journey back into Brooklyn. She felt exhilaration at the thought of the boroughs finally getting their comeuppance. It was well and truly overdue. However, she knew that by offering to help the FBI she was signing her own death warrant. But, perhaps death was a better alternative to living out her days under the thumb of Steve.

 

Antonia was immediately met by the sound of frantic pacing and vexed voices bickering in the kitchen as she entered the brownstone. She closed the door more forcefully than necessary to announce her arrival. There was little use skulking up to the bedroom; it would only serve to anger Steve more.

 

She instinctively tensed as heavy footfall approached.

 

“You stupid girl,” Steve snarled as Bucky crushed her to his chest, “where the hell have you been? We have men looking for you all over the god damn city.”

 

“I needed space,” Antonia said pulling away from Bucky and looking Steve directly in the eye. “I needed time to myself to reflect on last night.”

 

“What, you couldn’t leave a note? We thought you were dead!”

 

Antonia willed the tears to careen down her cheeks, her lip wobbling for good measure. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

 

Steve sighed with frustration, his hands brushing through his unkempt hair. “I could wring your neck. Bucky has been beside himself with worry. Don’t you care about our feelings?”

 

“Baby,” Bucky cooed, his hands gently holding Steve’s neck, pulling the angry away from Antonia. “Come on. Why don’t you go call off the search and have a stiff drink? I will talk to her. I can make her see sense.”

 

Steve looked at her sharply, slightly softening under Bucky’s hands. “Fine. But you and I are going to have words,” his pointer finger finding its mark on Antonia.

 

Her skin crawled as Bucky led her upstairs, his lips finding solace on the skin on her neck. “We were so scared love,” he crooned, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist as they ascended the stairs and he pulled her towards the master bedroom.

 

Her body sagged against the bathroom tiles, exhaustion seeping in, as she watched him draw her a bath, the soothing scent of milk and honey overtaking her senses.

 

She was suddenly overcome with the memory of her mother bathing her in milky white water as a child, the bath full of toy boats, ducks and fish. Her mother singing softly so as not to disturb her father. The faint dark marks around her wrists. The occasional black eye. God, how could she not have seen it? How had she been so blind?

 

The warm sensation of fingers caressing her cheeks pulled her from the memories, her eyes meeting stormy grey, awash with concern and relief. “Where did you go, baby?”  He asked as his fingers deftly pulled her leggings and underpants down in one smooth move, her shirt and bra following quickly. He tentatively examined her body for any new marks.

 

“I just walked. I was so lost in my own head I wasn’t sure where I was. I’m sorry I scared you.” She bit her lip, trying to feign regret. “Last night was just so overwhelming. It was like being back with Mistress Hela.”

 

Her heart tugged as Bucky’s eyes pricked with tears. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Antonia. I wish you never had to go through any of it. Mistress Hela, last night.”

 

She was pliant as he coaxed her into the water. The warm water was soothing against her aching skin. If it weren’t for Bucky’s constant chatter and obsessive hands she would have fallen asleep in the bath.

 

Her mind drifted to the papers sitting in the FBI headquarters and the soft grey eyes trying to read her. Guilt gnawed at her. Bucky was complacent to Steve’s business dealings, he was aware of the horrors the boroughs had brought down upon greater New York. But Bucky was kind. Bucky loved her.

 

“Where did you really go today, Antonia?” Bucky asked softly, his hands wringing out the small flannel before running it gently over her back. “If you’re honest Steve will understand. We can make everything better, I promise.”

 

Antonia sighed. “I stayed around Brooklyn. I think I spent a fair bit of time by the Navy Yard and Fort Greene Park. I just needed some space to think.”

 

“You could talk to me.”

 

Fuck, he was breaking her heart. Her tired blue eyes met his. “I don’t want our children to grow up in this world, Bucky. They deserve a better life than we had. They should be brought up somewhere where they will be safe and free to be whomever they want to be. They shouldn’t be forced to marry or live a life in the shadows.”

 

She was stunned at his soft smile. “I want that too, Antonia,” and as quick as it rose, the hope quickly plunged into darkness, “but this is a world we can’t escape. There will always be someone looking for us.” His hand firmly clutched her knee, his thumb idly drawing circles. “As soon as your father is gone we will be safe, I promise you. Steve knows best. We just have to trust him.”

 

Antonia nodded sadly. This was a lost battle. Bucky would never turn his back on Steve. She was alone in her fight after all, and she wasn’t going to back down lightly.

 

 

 

 

 

_Madre – mother_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It blows my mind everytime I get to see your awesome comments, they give me life. I can't begin to thank you enough for sticking by and continuing to read my crap!
> 
> I really hope you liked the chapter. Please feel free to leave a review! I love them like llamas.


	15. The Cell Block Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonia puts on the performance of her life. Be prepared for a smutfest.

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_I apologise if this comes across rushed and not very cohesive, but I don’t have much time._

_My name is Antonia Maria Rogers._

_My father is Tony Stark, the head of the Manhattan-borough. My husband is Steven Grant Rogers, the head of the Fuil Bráthair of Brooklyn. I know you are aware of the illegal goings on of their organisations._

_I have spent the last ten years on the run, but I was caught and forced into a marriage with Steven to create an alliance between the New York boroughs. The alliance was created after my birth to ensure the boroughs had enough defences to protect them from the Jersey gang “The Guardians.”_

_I know this must seem like a terrible mobster movie, but this is happening all around the country. Daughter’s like me, being forced into marriages with men to create allegiances._

_At the age of seventeen, I was brutally abused by a woman called Mistress Hela, sister to Thor and Loki Odinson of Chicago. The abuse served as a means to control me and train me to be the perfect wife._

_Before I help you find the evidence to put these bastards away, I ask that you remove Pepper Stark from the safe house she is currently held in Quebec Canada. Sam Wilson is holding her there for Steve._

_Please, that is all I ask._

////

 

Steve rolled off of Antonia, spent. Her chest heaved for breath, finally free of his weight. Her hand clutched at the stinging fresh bite mark on her neck. “Did you have to bite me so hard?”

 

Steve scoffed, feeling more than pleased with himself. “Felt like you needed a reminder of who was in charge here.”

 

Antonia rolled her eyes, covering her naked form with the loose sheet. “It’s a little hard to forget when you’re constantly breathing down my neck.” She sat up and stretched her back before strolling into the bathroom, the sheet wrapped around tightly for modesty.

 

The hot water ran over her tired and bruised body as she scrubbed at the invisible microcosm of filth and self-hatred, cum trailing down her inner thighs. The meagre moment of peace broken as Steve pinned her to the wall, his cock already half-mast.

 

His hands cupped her breasts as his tongue savoured the salty skin on the back of her neck. “You know darling, the more you fight me the more it turns me on.” A hand descended to the juncture between her thighs, his fingers finding her hard nub. He smirked, nipping at her skin as she let out a breathy sigh, his ministrations obviously having their desired effect. “Deep down, you love being controlled by me. You get off being pinned to the bed and being used.”

 

He pulled her around, forcing her to face him, his fingers persistent in their onslaught of her clit. As her orgasm hit hard like a freight train, Steve drove his cock into her, wrapping her legs around his waist.

 

“God, you can deny you want me all you want, my little doll,” it had been so long since he had called her that, “but your body betrays you. You were made for me.” He chuckled as she clung onto his hair, his pubic bone brushing against her sensitive clit. “I can’t wait to fill you with my child. Watch your body grow. Watch Bucky get all soft and sensitive over you.”

 

The betraying orgasm that ripped through her body sent him over the edge, pulsating through her warm, slick channel. His grunts were guttural, echoing off the tiles, his hands clutching whatever limb he could.

 

Exhaustion seeped through her body as his mouth assaulted her already sensitive skin, balls deep in her. Slowly, she unwrapped her legs, hips aching from a very arduous morning, blushing at the obscene sound of his cock leaving her body.

 

His hands drifted over her stomach, this thumb drawing lazy lines over her skin. He was everywhere; his scent, his body heat. She was suffocating and there was no escaping him.

 

In a rare, soft moment, Steve dropped to his knees and lazily kissed her stomach. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, bitterly reminding herself that Steve did not love her. Steve would never love her.

 

“Get off me,” she snarled pushing him away. She watched him stand to full height, glare down at her and storm from the bathroom, trailing water in his path.

 

Antonia took her time getting dressed before making her way downstairs. She found Bucky in the kitchen, reading the newspaper.

 

“Hey,” he said warmly as she entered the kitchen, noticing Steve sulking outside against the worn brick wall, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. “Maybe give him some space.” His hands were warm against her waist.

 

“I need to apologise,” she said timidly, secretly pleased with her performance that morning. However, for the sake of her plan, she had to grovel. She had to remain in Steve’s good graces for the time being. “I freaked out on him because of my own stupid insecurities, and that’s not fair for him.”

 

Bucky pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before nodding.

 

Slowly, she made her way out to the small backyard, approaching Steve with caution. His eyes monitored her darkly. “I’m not in the mood Antonia,” he said with little emotion, crushing the cigarette under his foot.

 

“I’m sorry.” Slowly she moved closer, an invisible white flag flying. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. It’s just,” for good measure she pathetically wrapped her arms around her waist and took a shaky breath, “I’m scared about getting pregnant. Everything is so stressful at the moment, I’m afraid that I will fail you again.”

 

Steve stilled, his lip caught between his teeth, digesting her words. “It will be over soon, I promise. I just need you to cool the attitude.”

 

God, it was like she was back in high school and Principal Coulson was telling her and Darcy off for making out. “Of course,” she hung her head, “I really am sorry.”

 

He watched her disappear back into the kitchen, his eyes literally crawling over her exposed legs. Lighting another cigarette and taking a drag he watched Bucky pull her between his legs, hands on her waist, his lips softly pressing against hers.

 

Bucky was soft. He had always been the more empathetic and pliable of them both. Steve thought back to their first kiss as he watched Bucky’s lips became more demanding against Antonia’s. They were fifteen, confused and full of raging hormones. It had been awkward, messy and sweet. Needless to say, their performance had improved considerably over the years.

 

Taking another drag of the cigarette he watched Bucky pull Antonia around the kitchen bench, animatedly talking to her as she pulled out the rolling pin and handed it to him. Bucky had been begging her to teach him to cook for months.

 

Steve fondly thought back to Bucky’s original disdain of Antonia when they had first met. Bucky had fallen hard and fast for the young Stark since she had moved into the brownstone. He was besotted. Steve could not deny his jealousy. Envious of the attention and affection she would receive in his place. Envious that he could not open his heart to her as easily as Bucky.

 

He brooded over his love confession brought on by the miscarriage. It hadn’t been a total lie. Perhaps, one day he could love her when they were free of Tony. He cared for her deeply, as much as he would allow himself, of course. Steve Rogers was not a vulnerable man; it spelt weakness. He felt a duty to feel something for her because Bucky loved her fiercely, and soon she would bear his children.

 

Yes, one day perhaps he could bring down his walls. But it could not be today.

 

Another drag of the cigarette and he smiled as Bucky laughed jovially, his long hair falling in front of his face. Antonia chuckled softly, patiently instructing him.

 

One final drag and Steve made his way into the kitchen. “And what are my loves making today?”

 

Bucky’s face lit up as he poured the flour into the bowl. “Antonia is teaching me her lemon shortbread recipe.” He licked the remainder of the creamed sugar from his finger.

 

“There won’t be any if he keeps trying to help himself,” she laughed handing over the handheld mixer. “Start on the slow speed and once most of the flour is mixed through then you can increase the speed.”

 

Laughter ran through the kitchen as flour flew everywhere. It was so fucking domestic, it made Antonia’s skin crawl.

 

Biscuits in the oven, Bucky went upstairs to change out of his flour-covered clothes. Antonia began to clear up, surprised when Steve joined her.

 

“You make him really happy,” he said quietly, as they washed up. “He really loves you.”

 

Antonia smiled, unable to hide the sadness creeping silently behind her façade. “I really love him.” She took a deep sigh and turned to him, reaching down deep to, as they say, fake it until you make it. “And I love you. I know I don’t always show that,” her small hand grabbed at his, the dish and towel still in his hands, “and I could be better behaved. I will do better.”

 

Steve smiled, though it clearly never reached his eyes. “I love you too.”

 

A quiet dinner, Bucky’s shortbread for dessert, they watched a movie together. Bucky’s head rested against Steve’s shoulder, their hands entwined as they watched some terrible ‘90s rom-com Bucky insisted was a classic.

 

Antonia’s mind was elsewhere. In a few short hours, she was due at the park to meet Special Agents Hill and Danvers. A hand on her shoulder brought her eyes to Bucky’s who encouraged her to climb onto his lap. His lips battled against hers, the movie long forgotten, his cock resting hard against her leg.

 

“I thought you’d be too tired,” Steve said, his voice veiled and deep.

 

“You don’t have to join us,” Antonia smirked getting off the couch and pulling Bucky upstairs. She knew she would have to put on one hell of a show to ensure she could make a clear escape later.

 

Steve turned the TV and lights off before being greeted to the sight of tangled limbs on the stairs. Bucky pressed firmly against the wall as Antonia fought with the buttons on his jeans, Bucky’s hands pulling her hair as his lips assaulted her neck.

 

Their coupled moans, whimpers and sighs emboldened their fight to dominate, clothes being flung over shoulders. It was the light giggling from them both that made his coil start to pull. The sight of Bucky wrapping her legs around his waist, carrying her up the stairs had his lungs begging for air and his cock straining in his pants.

 

He ascended the stairs, the song of giggling calling to him. Bucky dropped Antonia onto the bed unceremoniously, a cacophony of bedsprings and laughter filling the room.

 

“Hurry up, Stevie.” Steve was taken back twenty years to rushed trysts in between meetings, on the couch after dinner. A flurry of kisses and caresses as he fucked his frustrations out, Bucky only too happy to comply.

 

Bucky stalked Antonia up the bed, ripping her panties impatiently. “Hey, I liked those ones,” she cried, giggles threatening to ruin the perfect pout.

 

Steve slowly took his clothes off, taking in the sight of Bucky holding Antonia down by the hips, his tongue furiously feasting on her pussy, her hands tightly wound in his long hair. Profanities dripped from her lips as he drove her through her orgasm only to be caught against Steve’s demanding lips and tongue. “Come on baby, make her come again,” his voice dripped like honey, his hand stroking lube over his cock.

 

The strangled cry from Antonia as she came a second time spurred Steve from his hazy stupor. He pulled Bucky up and brought their mouths together, dominating the kiss while he savoured the sweet flavours of Antonia and Bucky. It was intoxicating.

 

Pulling away, his hand remaining firmly locked in Bucky’s hair, Steve looked down at a flustered Antonia, his eyes hungry and dark. A furious flurry of movement and Bucky entered Antonia, teeth and tongue eagerly lavishing her neck and lips.

 

Fervently, Steve pulled Bucky back and their lips met, Bucky’s hands gripping Antonia’s hips. A salacious gasp escapes his lips as Steve entered Bucky, his fingers digging into her soft skin.

 

Steve looked Antonia directly in the eyes as he fucked Bucky, his hand tight against Bucky’s throat. “Come on baby, come in her. I know you’re close,” he cooed in Bucky’s ear, Antonia’s eyes ensnared in his dark gaze. “Fill her up. Remind her who she belongs to."

 

Bucky came with a guttural growl, immediately sagging against Antonia’s petite form, essentially crushing her to the bed. Steve chased his own orgasm as Bucky crooned against her neck, his lips and teeth finding solace against her skin, Steve’s hands roughly gripping his hips.

 

Steve’s orgasm tore through him, his fingers pinching Bucky’s soft skin. He gasped for air before sinking his teeth into Bucky’s neck.

 

It was dangerously close to midnight when Antonia had finally worked up the courage to pull herself from Bucky’s tight grasp; satisfied he and Steve were fast asleep. She quickly dressed into a t-shirt Bucky had left lying on the floor and her shorts he had unceremoniously torn off her on their way up the stairs.

 

The streets were empty as she ran to the carousel. Time was of the essence now. It was risky leaving the house, but she knew this was the only way she could meet the agents. They were sat on a bench by the eerie carousel when she arrived.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she huffed, all but collapsing onto the bench. “I had to wait for them to fall asleep.”

 

“That’s okay, Mrs. Rogers,” Agent Danvers said with a polite but genuine smile, the first one Antonia had seen in a long time. “We knew you would come.” She handed Antonia an envelope. “Pepper has been removed from the safe house and is currently in Toronto in an FBI safe house. Sam Wilson has temporarily been moved to another jurisdiction and his contacts cut off.”

 

Antonia sighed in relief. “Thank you so much. Please, call me Antonia.”

 

“Perhaps you could fill us in on what you know regarding the upcoming election with Pierce,” Agent Hill said, watching Antonia read over the report from the envelope.

 

“They keep me in the dark, but I hear things sometimes when they don’t realise I’m there. Alexander Pierce has been in their pocket for a long time. They’ve been paying him off to help keep the police on their payroll. I overheard my father tell Pierce one night that once I was pregnant they would kill Steve so they would have full control of Brooklyn. The boroughs have to ruled by blood. In Steve’s absence, my father would rule and train a son to take over.”

 

Antonia spoke for an hour, encouraged by both agents, giving details of the warehouse in Red Hook, the evidence she had found on her father’s computer. She bravely recounted the beginning of her engagement, the night of her birthday and Mistress Hela’s training. She spoke of Wanda helping her escape and her eventual murder.

 

Finally, pounds upon pounds of guilt, hatred, and fear were lifted off her shoulders. She felt exhausted and drained, but safe.

 

“Antonia, we are going to need to be able to access your residence to plant listening devices. Do you think you can get everyone out of the house for a few hours?” Maria asked, her voice smooth, warm and calming. Antonia nodded. “We can do that first thing in the morning. This is going to be a long road, but the sooner we start and can get our hands on evidence, the sooner we can put them behind bars.”

 

Agent Danvers patiently put her hand over Antonia’s and smiled. “What you’re doing is incredibly brave. You’re going to be saving a lot of peoples’ lives. We’ve been waiting for a break in this case for years. There’s been so much red tape because of their insiders.”

 

Antonia smiled. “Thank you for believing me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter with a musical theatre reference? I've got broadway on the brain. 
> 
> Why 'Cell Block Tango'? Firstly, Chicago is a great show. Second, she's in her own cell. Third, they're all confessing their crimes, well Antonia is confessing on behalf of the Six Merry Murderers of New York... well Three. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter... I promise there's a method to the smutty madness. I think the air needed to be a little lighter before we burrow back down into the tunnel and get bloody stuck.
> 
> Your reviews truly make my day and I wish I had a better way to thank you all for continuing to read my little yarn. So, thank you for reading and reviewing. I really hope you enjoyed it.


	16. I'll See You In Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: major character death

_We will have ears and eyes on you 24/7. Act normally. Don’t do anything out of the ordinary. Do not draw attention to yourself._

 

That was proving difficult. With the knowledge of listening devices scattered throughout the brownstone, Antonia was hyperaware of her every move. She was hypercritical of each and every word that passed through her lips.

 

Months had passed since her meeting with Special Agents Danvers and Hill at the Prospect Park carousel. Alexander Pierce had once again been elected to city council and peace had returned to the boroughs. Well, at least on the surface.

 

Steve had become more vocal and candid about his grand scheme to silence Tony Stark indefinitely. Deep down, Antonia knew it was his tool to keep her in line. Silent threats of what could fall upon her if she did not portray the perfect wife. It worked.

 

Everything changed on a cold, dark and windy September evening. It was the beginning of a strong current that would eventually rip what little foundations remained asunder.

 

Steve’s dinner sat in the oven warming as Bucky helped Antonia wash the pots and pans. It was the fifth consecutive evening that he had been late coming home. Whatever was keeping him delayed was obviously behind his bitter disposition and precipitous outbursts.

 

The sound of the front door slamming shut shattered the benign and relaxed ambiance that had blessed the brownstone all day. It was always so peaceful before Steve returned.

 

Bucky sighed deeply. Antonia didn’t fail to see the slight tremor in his hands. He turned at the sound of Steve entering the kitchen and slamming his bag onto the countertop. “Hey baby,” Bucky cooed with his hallmark lilt, apprehensively moving to Steve and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Antonia watched on, knowing better than to open her mouth. “Rough day?”

 

“You could say that,” Steve snarled, allowing Bucky to manipulate him onto the barstool before going to the fridge and getting him a beer.

 

Antonia watched Bucky worry over him. Encouraging him to eat the pasta he had made all by himself for Steve. Bucky talked and talked, desperately trying to bring Steve away from the ledge that would deftly have him plummeting into the festering ebony free fall. He recounted about the kindergarten children they had seen at the park that morning searching for ducks and dinosaurs, the delicious Danish pastries they had sampled at the bakery. He proudly told Steve that Antonia did not have to help him prepare the pasta tonight, making it from scratch all by himself.

 

Steve finished his plate and drained his beer, silent as stone, his features steely. He watched as Antonia took his now empty plate and place it into the dishwasher silently. The tension was palpable and suffocating. She made to leave the kitchen.

 

“Stay.”

 

Antonia knew better than to disobey given his current state of ominous darkness. She slowly turned to look at him, his somber eyes penetrating her soul. His eyes were trained on her as his hands went to his bag. The box dropped onto the counter, the sound that echoed deeper and more foreboding than it perhaps really had. Antonia’s heart stopped, the air dissipated in her lungs.

 

“Steve, please…”

 

“I’m tired of waiting, Antonia.” He pushed the pregnancy test towards her. “Go take it.”

 

The rippling fear pricked at her raging desire to shove the pregnancy test down his throat. Her hand shook uncontrollably as she grabbed the test and made her way upstairs, shooting Bucky an unnerved glance.

 

Steve grabbed Bucky by the waist as he moved to follow Antonia.

 

The used test sat on the bathroom counter as she paced the classically designed ensuite, fighting the urge to climb out of the window and make a run for it. What use would that serve? If she left now the FBI might not be able to continue their investigation or successfully convict the boroughs, and Antonia would be caught again.

 

This was not the first time Steve had dumped a pregnancy test within her reach. The past few months Steve had become an obsessed man, bringing boxes home more often than not. The negative tests dumped into the bin, pulling him further into the fiery dark rage. The last two weeks had served a respite, Steve called away to Queens almost nightly.

 

The timer on her watch rang, bringing her movements to a stop, her heart crawling up into her throat. Eyes closed tight, she grabbed the test, hiding the results in her enclosed fist and made her way into the bedroom. Bucky was sat on the bed, his head resting anxiously in his hands. Steve leaned against the fireplace, his arms and ankles crossed, elongating his long, powerful body.

 

Antonia approached Steve and handed him the test. Tears pricked as she looked away, too afraid to be on the receiving end of his reaction. The thought of it returning negative sent shivers down her spine. The consequences of a positive result sent her nerves into a tailspin.

 

What little air she had was sucked from her taut chest as Steve sank to his knees before his, his large hands embracing her stomach. She failed to contain the sobs that wretched through her body as he placed soft kisses against her stomach.

 

Her body froze as Bucky placed his arms around her chest, his warm lips pressed to her exposed neck. “Thank you,” he sighed, his warm tears meeting her skin. “You’re wonderful, perfect.”

 

The sound of passing cars, Bucky’s molasses praises, Steve’s lips pressing against her bare skin, the rustling of clothes became white noise as panic set in. She became lost in a tunnel of static buzzing, bright white lights and the feeling of her heart fighting to tear out her chest.

 

But soon the bedroom, traffic returned as she felt her knees suddenly pressed against the edge of the bed. Their clothes gone, haphazardly strewn across the bedroom floor, Steve’s hands possessively petting her stomach as his teeth laid a path of crude blemishes she would wear for days. Her body belonged to him, now more than ever, and he was determined to show the world that he was well and truly the king of New York.

 

The juxtaposition of Bucky’s tender caresses with his soft hands and affectionate kisses dancing alongside Steve’s greedy, barbarous grip should have been beautiful. Under any other circumstances, it would have been perfect. They scratched an itch she had been numb too for so long.

 

But that was a rabbit warren she could never stray down.

 

As Steve’s lips assaulted the delicate spot behind her ear, his teeth grazing her overly sensitive skin, her stomach somersaulted at the thought of the growing embryo inside her. Antonia berated herself internally for ignoring the symptoms again. How could she have been so stupid?

 

She didn’t realise the tears were flowing until Bucky pressed soft kisses to her cheeks, waxing lyrical softly, his fingers gently caressing her neck. A salacious moan dripped as Steve grazed along the soft walls of her pussy with a long finger. It spurred Steve into action, forcing Antonia to grasp onto his shoulders as he pulled her onto his lap.

 

“Baby, be gentle with her,” Bucky begged, his hands softly resting on her stomach as he pressed his chest against her back.

 

But Steve was pinned in tunnel vision. His inner alpha demanded he claims Antonia, full of their child. He drove his cock into her wet channel, the whimper drawn from her lips satisfying the raging lechery chanting to him. His lips sought out Bucky’s as he fucked up into Antonia, holding her firmly against his chest.

 

“Fuck Buck, imagine when she’s big and round, full of our baby,” Steve growled before biting into Antonia’s shoulder, smirking as she shuddered. “Big rounds breasts. I can’t wait to watch you suck on them while I fuck her.”

 

For good measure, Antonia gripped onto Steve’s hair and pulled. Unfortunately, it only encouraged him. His hips snapped up against hers, drilling against her tightly taut clit.

 

“You’re going to look incredible,” Bucky cooed smoothly, his hands compressing her small breasts, his cock rutting against her cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, Antonia.” His hand grasped her hand from Steve’s shoulder and pulled it to meet his hard cock, her hand obediently wrapping around him.

 

Like an animal, Steve fucked into her, his hands possessively grasping onto what flesh he could, his teeth branding what little spartan skin he could, Bucky soothing the marks in return.

 

Antonia’s head rushed with adrenalin as Steve’s forehead met hers, Bucky painting her hand, his pinched expression bringing Steve to his climax. Suffocated by their radiating heat, Antonia forced herself to stay.

 

Steve’s hand trailed over her stomach, his eyes awed, Bucky taking the time to alleviate the tender bites on her neck and shoulders with his soft lips.

 

“Tonight, we must ensure that our little one has a safe future,” Steve said darkly, his hand pulling Antonia to look at him, his hand settled over Bucky’s on her stomach. “Go shower. Bucky will bring you to Red Hook in an hour.”

 

But they didn’t go to Red Hook. Bucky’s mood was downright sour as she came out of the shower and moved into the bedroom to dress. He sat on the bed, his fingers caressing over the pregnancy test, lost in his thoughts. As they drove further south-west through Brooklyn, Antonia knew something was terribly wrong. As Bucky pulled the car to a stop at the red light, she quickly contemplated making a run for it, but the door would not budge. She felt Bucky’s eyes on her as she casually moved her hand away.

 

“I promise Steve will explain when we get there,” he promised quietly, saying nothing more as they drove around Brooklyn. There was no logic to where he was driving. Antonia surmised that they were being followed and he was trying to lose whomever they were. His hands caressed her wrist briefly before passing her an open bottle of water.

 

She thought little of it as she sipped the refreshing water. Despite the simmering anxiety in her gut, Antonia fell asleep, her head resting against the glass of the window.

 

When she awoke, she was laid out on a luxe Californian King bed in a lavish, traditionally-styled room. Her head swam and her body leaden. Nausea kicked in as she came to the realisation that Bucky had drugged her. Antonia slowly sat up and took in her surroundings, her eyes falling to Steve, sat on the leather wingback chair, watching her closely.

 

“Where are we?” she asked timidly, the ice cold look on his face serving as a warning.

 

“Connecticut. An old family farm. You don’t need to know the specifics.” She watched nervously as he cracked his knuckles one by one. “I have a surprise for you, Antonia. Come with me.”

 

Silently, she followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs into the immaculately designed farmhouse. It was beautiful, homey. It was Steve and Bucky’s. Candid and posed photos over the years lined the walls. Photos of their family, the Fuil Deartháir, friends.

 

Antonia was groggy as she followed Steve out into the cold autumn afternoon and into the woods. He wasn’t going to kill her, not when she was pregnant, but that did little to alleviate the pounding fear. The woods were brimming with life. Ancient trees towering above them, the call of birds in the distance. Her thin cardigan did little to shield her from the bite of the cold air.

 

They came to a clearing and she stopped in her tracks.

 

“Now, now Antonia,” Steve taunted her, grasping her hand and pulling her further into the clearing to the man knelt on the ground, his hands zip-tied behind his back, “come say hi to daddy.” Tears brimmed as Steve pushed her into Bucky’s arms and retrieved the pistol from his jacket pocket.

 

Antonia took the opportunity to look around the clearing. Nearby stood Clint, T’Challa and May Parker.

 

Pistol trained on Tony, Steve clicked his tongue. “Congratulations Tony, you’re going to be a granddaddy. Well, for the next few minutes until I put a bullet in your brain.”

 

Tony chuckled and spat out blood. “Finally, you’ve done something right, Captain,” his dark eyes trained on Steve. “Do you really think you’ll be a better leader than I?”

 

Steve chuckled before kicking Tony directly in the nose. “I respected you, Tony, looked up to you as a leader since I was a child. I thought you were a pioneer. You single-handedly brought together and maintained the boroughs. And then you got greedy.”

 

Antonia swayed slightly, still affected by the drugs, Bucky holding her tight against his chest, forcing her to watch on. “You must watch,” he whispered in her ear. “You need to be reminded of the consequences for those who sell out their family.” He sighed as she stilled. “He knows about your friends at the FBI, Antonia.”

 

She watched as Steve pressed the muzzle of the pistol to Tony’s forehead.

 

“Tony Stark, you have been found guilty, by the boroughs, of betraying our values by planning the murder of Steve Rogers,” T’Challa’s voice rang through the clearing, “with the intent to take over the Brooklyn borough. Do you have anything to say?”

 

“I’ll see you in hell.”

 

Antonia pressed her eyes shut as Steve squeezed the trigger, her ears ringing violently. Warm hands on her face forced her to open her eyes, Steve’s dark blue eyes boring down into hers.

 

“See what happens to those who betray us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you all enough for your continued support. It's been a freaking tidal wave of ups and downs. 
> 
> This was a short but necessary chapter... because it's downhill from here. 
> 
> You guys are awesome. Thanks for reading!


	17. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost the end. I'm going to post and hide until the end. See you on the other side.

_Plop. Plop. Plop._

 

“Congratulations, you’re about ten weeks, Mrs. Rogers.” Antonia stared at the monitor in disbelief.

 

“That’s impossible, Dr. Strange,” Steve growled from beside the monitor, his eyes fixed directly on the small discernible blob on the screen. “We’ve been taking tests for months and they’ve been coming back negative until the last one.”

 

Antonia laid back down on the bed and rolled her eyes. There was no ‘we’ in the pregnancy tests. Steve would slam a box in front of her and force her to take the test. His view of the world was very skewed and self-serving. The eye-roll earned her a warning look from Bucky and she kept her mouth shut.

 

“Well, unfortunately, those home pregnancy tests are not always the most accurate,” Dr. Strange said pulling the probe away from her stomach and wiping the gel with a towel. “Given the amount of stress Antonia has been under, I would not be surprised if a hormonal test came back with concerning results. Given her previous miscarriage, my recommendation is that Antonia be placed on bed rest."

 

Antonia shuddered as Bucky gently wiped the gel from her stomach with a clean towel, his hand resting over where the probe had found the baby. She knew Dr. Strange was just recommending bed rest to appease Steve and save his own skin. If she lost the pregnancy now it would only be nature taking its course. And whilst Steve was by no means a stupid man, he had grown accustomed to hearing what he wanted to hear. And who else to place the blame of a miscarriage on than his vexatious wife?

 

“Thank you for coming all the way out here, Dr. Strange,” Steve said ushering the doctor out, his portable ultrasound lugging behind.

 

Antonia sat up, expecting Bucky to follow Steve like the sappy, trained dog she had come to see him as. He wasn’t weak but blinded. And she knew it was dangerous to see him as anything other than loyal to a fault and a martyr to Steve.

 

The silence that hung over the room was acrid and heavy. Bucky chewed his thumb, lost in thought, his back resting against the wall as he watched Antonia. She absentmindedly pulled a fray on the throw blanket as her mind raced. She had to get out. There had to be a way out of this mess.

 

The sound of Dr. Strange’s Audi revving and leaving the property broke the silence but did little to fracture the bitter atmosphere. Antonia dared not look at Bucky, feeling his scowl boring down through her. The disappointment in his eyes gnaws at her crumbling facade.

 

Because Antonia is fucked. Well and truly fucked.

 

The sound of Steve’s impending footfalls up the old stairs sends her scuttling off the bed, anxiety and, adrenalin pumping through her veins. Bucky watches her fight to open the window, tears blurring her vision.

 

“There’s no use trying to escape,” she heard Steve say as he closed the door. Turning to look at him, a sob escaped as his dark eyes held her gaze. “You’re not going anywhere. And I suggest you calm down, it’s not good for the baby.”

 

“How could you?” Bucky’s voice was splintered with emotion. “After everything we’ve done for you?”

 

Antonia laughed incredulously despite herself. “Are you kidding me? What you’ve done for me?” She turned to Steve. “You had me trained like a puppy and physically abused by that woman. You raped me when I was eighteen. You hunted me down like a dog and beat me when I didn’t live up to your fucked up expectations. You manipulated me. You made me fall for you both. You let my father kill the only real friend I ever had.” Her eyes met Bucky’s pale overcast eyes. “Did you honestly expect me to stand by and watch you bring a life into this fucked up world?”

 

“That was not your decision to make, Antonia,” Steve snarled. “You had a duty.”

 

“Oh right of course, because I’m a woman. You’re absolutely right, Steve. I should just stand by while you sell your daughter off like a whore.”

 

Steve bristled and stood up tall before stalking over to her. “The only whore in this family is you. You’ve chosen to lie with the FBI. But you forget little girl that I have eyes and ears everywhere. Sam Wilson is not the only man I have on the inside. I have an army.” He pressed her back against the window, his hand grabbing her ponytail and his face millimetres from her own. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of death. You’re going to live a long and unpleasant life under my watch. You’re going to give me sons and daughters. You’re going to be forced to watch them grow up and assume their duties to the boroughs. As leaders and whores.”

 

This was the real Steven Grant Rogers. This was the man she’d but had a glimpse of as a young woman. The man she’d heard whispered on the wind. This was the new King of New York.

 

“I’m going to take care of our little FBI problem,” Steve said darkly, “and then we are going to return to New York. Antonia, you are going to regret the day you ever decided to cross me.”

 

It was though Antonia had forgotten how to breathe. The second the door closed behind Steve and Bucky her knees found the floor and she broke. She sobbed until her throat was raw and her chest ached.

 

And so a new routine set in. Antonia was awoken each morning by Bucky placing a tray of food on the bed and watching her clear the plate. He refused to address her the first few days but slowly broke his since and would talk to her, though the conversations were trivial. After a shower, he would take her into the garden and they would slowly walk in silence. Then lunch, then he would watch over her as she was forced to take a nap. The evenings were spent in awkward silence with Steve over dinner and then she would watch Steve and Bucky play boardgames.

 

Antonia was not perturbed about Steve’s icing, however, it did hurt her to see how wrenched Bucky was.

 

On occasion, Antonia could hear Steve’s heated conversations on the phone or with Bucky. Despite Tony being out of the picture and having the boroughs full backing, he was agitated trying to remedy the issue of the FBI on their tail’s, or so she thought. He was keeping secrets and setting plans in motion that he would never speak of.

 

There had been a major shift in Steve, though. What, Antonia could not say, however it left her feeling like the rug was about to be pulled from underneath her feet.

 

Laid out on the blanket, Antonia watched the clouds high above move slowly across. She didn’t care that her jumper did little to keep the cool air from numbing her bones. Nearby, she could feel Steve watching her closely as he conversed with their longtime gardeners, Drax and a truculent man aptly nicknamed Rocket. 

 

The farmhouse had been in the Rogers’ family since the ‘70s when they had acquired it through a disagreement with a rival family. It had served as the family’s summer house and getaway for decades.

 

She was never alone, never out of sight or hearing from either Steve or Bucky. Bucky lay beside her, his head resting against her stomach, singing softly, his thumb lazily grazing her sensitive skin. His touch set her skin alight, flaming the desire to run.

 

Antonia visibly flinched as Steve approached and sat with them on the picnic blanket. He placed a touching kiss to Bucky’s lips.

 

They lay in the mildly warm afternoon sun, petting and cooing her stomach. Antonia blocked out their noise, focusing on her escape plan. Perhaps she could overpower Bucky while Steve was back in New York. As much as it pained her to hurt Bucky, she had to put the baby first.

 

But then what? Where would she go? How long before they would catch up with her? Was she prepared to kill them?

 

The sounds of Steve and Bucky talking to each other over her only annexed the ringing in her ears. She was claustrophobic and losing any tiny particle of modicum.

 

Silent tears cast down her cheeks as their hands tormented her, a burning sensation following in their touch. This is what suffocating must feel like. 

 

A flicker of light drew her attention to Drax watering the bed of sunflowers. They stood tall and proud, the water glistening in the sunlight. It was a miracle they were still blooming this late into autumn, but Drax had the magic touch.

 

The vibrating of Steve’s phone brought the all-consuming touches away from her and she could finally draw breath. Their attention diverted, Antonia took the opportunity to gain some much-needed distance. The sunflowers called to her and she happily obliged.

 

Her hands sought out their bright, warming colour, damp from the water. “You’re a miracle worker, Drax.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said quietly. Despite his colossal stature, Drax was nothing but kind, gentle and warm-hearted.

 

“Please, call me Antonia,” she begged quietly, keeping aware of Steve and Bucky’s movements. “Ma’am makes me sound like a snob.”

 

Drax chuckled before turning off the hose. He moved closer towards her and leaned towards the sunflowers. “My father had a sunflower farm down south. I’ve always loved the smell of them blooming in the sun.”

 

Antonia smiled sadly, biting back the natural urge to hold her stomach. “They bring so much joy and beauty,” she said running her fingers over the soft petals.

 

“You will find joy, Antonia. That baby will bring you so much happiness and fulfilment.”

 

Antonia watched on in disbelief as Drax smiled knowingly and walked away towards the old barn.

 

Dinner was sullen that evening, food pushed around on plates, little being said. Steve was despondent and taciturn. Bucky tried his best to lighten their spirits, but his lover was a dark grey cloud that shrouded even the cheeriest disposition.

 

Instead of their usual evening game, Bucky and Steve retired to their beds early. The symphony of concupiscence sang through the cavernous halls as Antonia lay on the lounge watching the flames flicker from the fireplace. It was still too warm for a fire, but the light was comforting.

 

Above, she could make out Steve reaching the climax of his aria, Bucky following suite. To prove a point, Steve had left their bedroom door open and soon Antonia could hear the familiar footfalls leaving the bedroom and make their way down the stairs.

 

She wasn’t prepared to give Steve the satisfaction of seeing her reaction, so Antonia closed her eyes and feigned sleep. She heard the footsteps approach and stand before her. An aggravated sigh and they retreated back into the kitchen to the exasperating phone vibrating on the kitchen bench.

 

Antonia could hear Steve thump through the kitchen and exit the farmhouse. Listening upstairs she could hear Bucky in the shower, singing off-key. Curious, she made her way to the kitchen window, kneeling underneath. She could just hear Steve.

 

“We must make our move. We can’t wait.” A pause. “No, you listen to me, you stupid son of a bitch, this ends tonight. I am done.”

 

The crescendo of crunching gravel shook her from her reverie and she moved into the kitchen quickly taking an open bottle of water and taking an almighty drink.

 

“How much did you hear?”

 

Antonia visibly flinched as he approached her. Holding her breath she waited she anticipated his strike, but it never came. Instead, Steve’s warm hand embraced her stomach, his large fingers finding solace in her warmth.

 

An audible gasp escaped her lips as she saw stray tears work their way down Steve’s cheeks. “The FBI are going to move forward with pressing charges against the boroughs.” His voice was small and drained. Antonia could sense the trepidation leeching off of his skin. “They’re going after everyone.”

 

Silence clouded the room as he searched for the courage to continue. “I’m going to give myself in to save Bucky. He doesn’t deserve to go to prison for the rest of his life because he fell in love with me.” Antonia watched him carefully, his hands caressing her non-existent bump. “He has the right to know our child. He hasn’t done or seen the things I have.”

 

Despite herself, the untold anger she harboured and built up rage, she couldn’t help but feel pity. “I’m sorry.”

 

Steve chuckled and looked her in the eyes. “I can’t blame you. You are a victim in all of this. Your father was a piece of shit and he used you as stock.” His lip trembled slightly, a wall decades deep with built-up armour, slowly cracking. “You both deserve some happiness. Please, just take care of him.”

 

“I will, I promise,” Antonia promised as he took her hand in his, the distant sounds of sirens approaching. “Does Bucky know?”

 

Steve sighed, taking a step back as footsteps rushed down the stairs.

  
“Baby, what’s going on?” Bucky asked panicked, his pyjama pants slung low on his hips, grasping at Steve’s face.

 

“They’re coming for us. I’m taking a deal and turning myself in,” Steve said, gripping hard onto Bucky’s arms, “for you.”

 

“No, you can’t…”  


“They were going to come after you, my love, and I can’t let you go down with me.”

 

“But baby…”

 

“No, Buck, it’s done.” Antonia made to move, give them the privacy they desperately needed, only to be held back by Steve’s firm grip. “You need to look after each other, for the baby’s sake. Get out of the country, take the cash before the FBI find it.”

 

Bucky pressed his lips against Steve’s firmly, finding what little solace he could in their final moments together.

 

Antonia held onto Bucky tightly as Steve was cuffed and taken away by the police. She could have sworn she heard his heart break.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed against his chest.

 

“We have to get out of here,” he said firmly. “Tonight this all ends, just like Stevie said. We start fresh.”

 

*****

 

_Five Years Later_

 

The cool breeze brought on by the final conclusion of the summer storm was a welcome relief to the hazy humidity. The sun peaked through the parting grey clouds and the water glistened under the beating rays of the sun.

 

Bucky walked onto the balcony overlooking the water, the sound of gulls fighting breaking through the lingering rumble of thunder. The firm grip on his hand brought a smile to his face and he picked up the small toddling bundle of joy and rested him on his hip.

 

“See Stevie, a rainbow,” he said, the name tugging at his heart. “Just like I promised. A bit of noise, a bit of light and hey presto, beautiful colours in the sky.”

 

“Dadda promised,” Stevie chirped, itching to get down to the beach.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know buddy, we will go in a minute.” Bucky knew his little Stevie better than anyone. He was a terror on two legs; stubborn, defiant and independent just like Steve. “Let’s go see how mamma is fairing.”

 

They made their way back into the old Queenslander, the house cool thanks to the air conditioning. Antonia stood in the kitchen, her back to Bucky, helping their daughter pour the lemon tart mixture over the casing.

 

She smiled warmly as Bucky gave in to Stevie’s demands to be let down. He toddled over to his play kitchen and began to imitate what he saw in the kitchen.

 

Their five-year-old daughter, Wanda, watched on in delight as Antonia placed the tart into the oven. Really, she was just excited to head to the beach once the oven was closed.

 

Hand in hand, the family walked to the beach, a short walk away from the house. It was close to Christmas, the streets bustling with haggard parents and holidaymakers.

 

They had found home in the sleepy beachside town of Brighton in Queensland not long after leaving New York. Antonia knew they would be safe in Australia. And it became home for them both.

 

Over time they found the capacity to forgive and move on from the life they had left behind. They had to, with Wanda on the way. And as the beautiful blonde little girl tore down the walls they had both built up in the few remaining months of their life in New York, they fell in love. They found peace in each other and their little girl.

 

And eventually, Stevie joined the family. He was the spitting image of his father with the temperament of Steve, but he was beautiful and he was theirs.

 

Arm firmly wrapped around Antonia’s shoulders, they lazily walked along the beach, their toes sinking into the hot, damp sand as they followed their two children, leading the way.

 

Life could not have been more perfect now. Two lost souls, two broken souls, finding peace with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it safe to come out? Okay. 
> 
> Update 6/7... so trigger happy me jumped the gun and posted what I thought was the end. But clearly it wasn’t. So be sure to read on and I apologize. There’s a fair bit going on professionally and personally and I’m an impatient person at the best of times.
> 
>  
> 
> Firstly, I can feel some rage. "But Steve deserved to die!" I think I'm getting sappy in my old age and I really wanted Steve to have a moment to redeem himself a little. He loved Bucky more than anything in this world and it made sense. In my mind anyway. 
> 
> Should I duck and cover?
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking by this story and me. Your support, kind words, kudos and bookmarks have really fuelled my desire to improve and be more disciplined in my writing and editing. You're all super special to me and I legit cannot thank you enough. 
> 
> Good news, I have something REALLY special in the pipelines. A collaboration with the beautiful sophiria. It will be a dark!steve/reader marathon of darkness. 
> 
> Until next time folks!


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The actual final chapter... because I'm terribly indecisive and trigger happy... 
> 
> Short and sweet (?) Steve moment

The wad of cash lay counted before Steve, his fingers tapping against the communal table. “You’re three hundred short there, buddy.”

“I know, Steve, sir,” the young kid shuttered, shaking, “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that… well, D-block, they’re…” 

He shut his mouth as Steve rolled his eyes. Perfectly white, straight teeth nipped at his worn lips as he contemplated his next move. He wanted to go easy on the kid, he was fresh meat, but Steve had a reputation to uphold. “Here’s how this is going to work kid. You are going to drag that tiny, pathetic little ass of yours over to D-block and you’re going to look that piece of shit, Rhodes, in the face and you are going to demand the three hundred. And if he refuses you… well, you’d best not come back here empty handed. Got it?”

The poor kid hung his head and scrabbled out of his sight. Steve sighed and cracked his knuckles ready for the next order of business. 

Sing Sing had been good to Steve. He had anticipated a rough journey to the top of the food chain, especially entering as an informant, but apparently his reputation preceded him, and F-block were more than happy to allow him rule.

For his part in the city’s case of the century, Steve had plead guilty on charges of murder, rape, kidnapping and money laundering. He’d spend the remainder of his life in jail, but Bucky and his child were safe.

The week preceding his arrest, the noose dangled before his face, he knew that to save Bucky he had to take the fall. He would burn New York and himself to save the one good thing in his life.

Antonia on the other hand, she was the catalyst of their undoing. He had to respect her to taking him on though. He should never have underestimated her. The young woman who had escaped him, Steve Rogers, King of Brooklyn, and evaded him for a decade. Who bit back and sacrificed to save her best friend, albeit for nothing. No, he respected her, and he knew that she could make his Bucky happy. 

Together, she and Bucky could bring up his child where they would be safe, because now the world was burning. The underground was in utter turmoil, alliances cut off and wars being fought. The FBI hunting them all down like dogs.

Later that evening, as he leant against the wall, watching Clint Barton pummel the head of Happy, blood pooling beside his head, he smiled over the photo in his hands. 

Bucky sat on the beach, the sun warming his face as he built sandcastles with Wanda. Of course, Steve would have baulked at the choice of name. His daughter, and she was his daughter, deserved to be named after his mother. But, she was beautiful. She had his eyes and nose, her mother’s hair and temperament. Beside Bucky sat Antonia, her hand cradling her pregnant belly. 

They were a picture of serenity and home, a far cry from the prison walls and sound of cracking ribs. The photo was a few years old now, Stevie not long turned three, but he loved it. He loved how happy Bucky looked. 

Steve knew he would never meet his family, but he was at peace with his decision to sacrifice himself. At the end of the day, he was in too deep. He was born into this life and he would die in this life. He didn’t deserve to know what it would be like to hold his baby girl, or watch Bucky fuss over a teething baby. 

No, Steve belonged in a cell, locked away from society, where he could rule with an iron fist and keep the ones he loved at bay. 

And though he longed to reach out, he knew the dangers that would ripple down the chain. He would place his loves in the greatest danger, because Steve had enemies. He had enemies that Bucky didn’t know of. But, he had his man on the land, keeping a distant watch, so he would always know that they were happy.

The snapping of bone drew his attention from the photo and he looked down at the crumbled body before him. 

“Do you know who I am, Happy?” He knelt beside the trembling body and with a single finger lifted the head to look him straight in the eyes. “I’m the fucking King of New York.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... I hope this ties up loose ends. Again, thank you SOOOO much for sticking by me with this. MWAH!


End file.
